The Majestic Secrets
by HermioneSparta
Summary: Everyone has secrets. Some are larger than others, while some are deadlier... Warnings inside. STORY IS BEING REWRITTEN! Consider this WIP while I over-haul, even though it IS a completed story.
1. The Beginning I

**Title:** The Majestic Secrets

**Author:** HermioneSparta

**Rating:** M

**Disclaimer: **The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story

**Summary**: Everyone has secrets. Some are larger than others, some are deadlier. And some...some might just change the world. The only question is, is the world _ready_ for the change?

**Warnings**: Attempted rape, rape, sexual situations, cursing, mention of slash

**The Majestic Secret**

**Chapter One**

**The Beginning (I)**

The end-of-term silence which settled over the nearly empty castle did nothing to sooth his thoughts. Onyx eyes watched wary student leave their escorts to board their carriages. Long gone were the days when merry youth ran across the lawn, so desperate they reach the train the ignored the carriages. The more time passed since such freedom existed, the faster the children grew. Had it only been a few years since the return of the despot, Tom Riddle? One would think it was a lifetime; for some, it had been...it still was.

A shuddering sigh fell from lips as white as the winter snow upon the window's ledge. Delicate lids closed over the ever vigilant eyes, resting them for just a moment. For a few seconds, he could be nothing but a professor savoring the weeks of peace which came from Winter Holiday. If for only a few moments, he would be not a spy, nor a solider, possibly not even a Master of his Art...

For a mere breath, he could be _just_ a man.

Shaking his head, Severus Snape spun on his heel, burning the image of wary children from his mind. He forced his thoughts to more mundane, slightly satisfying thoughts: research. Time during which neath master bothered him, for both wanted weapons and salivations he may or may not give them with his work.

He barely held back another sigh as his eyes fell on the last person he wanted to see.

"Albus wants to see you. He says it's urgent," came the quiet words. The words he dreaded at the beginning of a holiday, words he swore he would one day never hear.

"Thank you, Minerva. Do tell him I'm busy next time you see him, will you?" His annoyance sharpened his voice. She pursed her lips and narrowed her emerald eyes for a moment, staring at him with the unblinking gaze. The same gaze she held in her cat form, the same gaze which sliced through his armor and pierced his soul.

Without another word, she gave him a curt nod and left the room. He closed his eyes for another second before following her into the corridor. He heard only his own quiet steps for nearly half an hour. The steady _thump-tap, thump-tap_ of his boots became an echo of his heartbeat, a lullaby which lulled him.

"Severus." A voice husky with age yet filled with strength sliced through his meditation. He paused, returning to reality with a jolt. He was too relaxed, too confident. It was a lapse, a danger to him and others to be caught as unaware as he just had been.

"Yes, Albus?" Turning, he faced his elder with his head raised. Pools of liquid night met orbs of summer sky. Steel and concrete brushed as their minds touched, his Occlumency walls becoming diamond within his mind. He kept his emotions in check, allowing his face to show nothing.

"Minerva didn't tell you I wanted to see you?"

"She did."

The torches flickered and the orange flames painted shadows upon the high walls. Albus looked over his glasses as his spy, his Potions Master...his son in all but name. He knew he was crossing the line, had unintentionally become threat to the peace of the warrior before him. Yet some things could not be helped. For once, much needed solicitude and respite could not be given.

Not yet.

"So why are you heading down here instead of going to my office?" he asked the younger wizard. His voice was low, as if speaking to a frightened child, yet held sad knowledge one would not expect.

"I have important work to do," came the equally quiet response. Defiance gave way to resignation. Ever so slightly, the steel posture became looser as defeat settled in. Severus knew Albus would not deny him rest unless it was important.

"Not more important than this. I can't tell you about it here, but I need you do me a favor," the old wizard explained softly. His regret was clear. For once, he wished he didn't answer to those higher to him. He was _he_ could be the General, and not those born into the position. But he wasn't...and could never be. He, much like Severus, was a solider. One of higher rank, but a soilder none the less.

Yet he would keep _that_ true to himself. Some secrets were not his to tell.

"Very well. Let's Floo to your office and get this over with." Without another word, they made their way to the Potion Master's office.

The chill of the dungeon was nothing compared to the cold of their regret.

[-]

[-]

AN: Sssoooo. If you've read TMS before, you know I just completely rewrote that. I hadn't planned to, but...it's just happened.

I've decided to (finally) re-vamp this story. My plans:

-Majority of the plot and dialogue will stay the same.

-"Updating" some of the speech and surrounding descriptions (such as what I just did above).

-Changing some descriptions to make sure this stays under M rating (it's borderline MA/higher right now)

I will NOT be rewriting the whole story. It's around 1000 pages with both TMS and TMB combined. That's too much work for even me. However, when I'm done—if everything happens like what I did above—then it may seem like I've rewritten it.

Also, I'll be posting trigger warnings at the beginning of chapters about content. Anyone who's read _Their Bond_ knows what that means.


	2. The Beginning II

******The Beginning (II)**

Golden-brown eyes blindly stared at a parchment. The lines of black letters became blurs as focus more difficult. A mind filled with thoughts of matters knowledge beyond that of her peers was slowly becoming void of all thought. For just a moment, she could think...or in this case, not think. There was nothing of importance to keep her in the present, only the blessed silence of not think, act, ___react_, plan, speak...do anything.

Except be.

"Hermione, will you come on? You've finished it, with plenty of extra!"

Suddenly, she was back in the present. Hermione Granger blinked and ran her blurry eyes over the scroll she held. It was a report long finished. She placed it in her bag and ran a hand through her hair. With a silent sigh, she looked around the room. She sat with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley in the Gryffindor Common room, finishing last-minute preparations to leave the school.

"No she hasn't, Harry. 'Mione still needs to add another three feet, just to be sure." Ron grinned at Harry, oblivious to his friend's struggle to regain her thoughts. He laughed silently as Harry rolled his eyes, both knowing the redhead was joking about their best (female) friend.

"You two may not care about school..." Hermione spoke, reciting words she'd long since memorized. With each tick of the clock above the mantle, she slowly returned to the matters at hand. Matters of importance, things beyond day dreams and blessed mental silence. She continued to speak as she watched friends.

___Impossible, that's what she is_. The boys spoke without words, their facial expressions saying all they needed.

___I know, Ron, we just need to let her rant._

___Wish she'd change it around, to be more interesting._

"...and you-are you two even bloody listening?" she asked peevishly. Though she herself was sick of repeating the same thing, it was rather annoying that they no longer ___listened_ to her.

"Yes," the boys said together.

With a shake of her head, and a snort of disbelief, Hermione grabbed a stack of books from the nearby table and promptly left the room. She smiled to herself as the portal hole slammed shut, only to crash open. Ignoring the ___boys_ following her, she quickly made her way to the library. She knew without a doubt they were following her so she wouldn't be "distracted" in the library.

"Miss Granger." While not fond of most students due to their mistreatment of the books and disregard of rules, Madam Pince had a soft spot for Hermione. Then again, most of the staff did. Her harsh expression softened slightly as she looked at the bright witch entering the glass doors.

"Madam Pince, I need ___Liber Regalis_, I believe it's called." Hermione spoke quietly, a habit she'd form from spending so much time in libraries. She looked over the desk at the older witch, biting her lip and praying she wouldn't ask questions.

Irma Pince raised an eyebrow as she met Hermione's gaze over her glasses while checking the books back in. "I don't know why you read such things, Miss Granger. It's fascinating, yes, but it doesn't apply to today's world."

Hermione's lips thinned, but she held her tongue, stuck with pitting her wits against the naive Wizarding world again. She took several steps back to allow the librarian room to exit the counter. "Yes, well, as you said, it's interesting." She continued under her breath as she followed the older witch through a long-familiar maze of stacks. "Actually it does still apply. Where do you think the Ministry gets their ideas? It's common sense."

The librarian turned down an aisle and plucked a book from the shelf before she came to a full rest. "Here you are, ___The Book of Royals-Wizarding Edition_. Is that all, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, thank you." Holding the book to her chest, left the library as quickly as she could. She waved to the boys who waited by the door, silently telling them to follow. She nearly laughed as they sighed in relief at ___one_ book.

As they made their way back towards the tower, a quiet beep broke the silence, making them turn to her.

"What was that, 'Mione?" Another near-silent beep sounded, making her close her eyes for a moment.

"Nothing, Ron. I forgot to pack my bag in my trunk-will you do it, please?" she asked, looking at them with wide eyes. Shrugging, the boys continued their journey. Hurriedly she pulled out a charmed Galleon, she read the message: ___You are needed in my office_. That was it. With a noise between a sigh and groan, Hermione hurried through the corridors.

Sometimes she really wished she had never given the Headmaster one of the communication coins.

After clattering down seven floors and running at top speed, Hermione finally stood in front of the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

"Le-levitating Leeches," she gasped. The statue moved to reveal the rotating stairs. ___Catch your breath, Granger, this isn't the time to start looking like the others. It's probably nothing, anyway,_ she reassured herself.

Despite her self-assurance, her knock was weak from hesitation.

"Come in, Miss Granger."

She looked around the circular room, her mind cataloging the slightest of changes. Mid-day winter sun fell through the high windows, bathing the fire-warmed room in a gentle glow. The private library on the second floor was darker than normal, and the doors which concealed his pensive were cracked. Why? It wasn't like the Headmaster to leave it open. Had be been interrupted?

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" She kept her tone polite as she flicked her gaze pointedly between him and the Potions Master sitting before her.

Her clipped words dimmed the twinkle in his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, child, I did. You do plan to go to Grimmauld Place from here, correct?"

"Yes, Headmaster, I do. I was hoping I would still be able to go home for the rest of the break, though. I think that Mum and Dad would love to have me home for two whole weeks. But since it's a Muggle house, I'm not sure if the Floo will work."

The old man's eyes twinkled again as she sat in one fluid motion, hands folded in her lap.

"It will. I've already arranged it, do not worry."

"Thank you, sir," she said with a respectful nod.

"Headmaster, what does this have to do with me?" Severus' voice, smooth as silk, wrapped around them. They turned to him, having forgotten for a moment he was in the room. Nary a speck of annoyance graced his chiseled features as he met the ice blue eyes of his employer. He knew without a doubt something more was going on. Something which required him to be a fighter, a warrior for the Order, rather than a Hogwarts professor.

"Well, Severus, I need you to make sure Miss Granger arrives at Grimmauld Place and later at her home safely." Their eyes met for a brief second only for the connection to break as the request was denied. No further information would be given, only what was just told.

"Headmaster, surely there's no need! She'll be going by Floo both times. I have more important things to do," he added as he turned his attention to the woman in question. He raised an eyebrow as she defiantly lifted her chin, meeting his mocking gaze without hesitation.

"It won't be for long, Severus, only five minutes each time," Dumbledore said with a smile. With twin snorts, the younger witch and wizard turn to the elder wizard. ___Damn that smile,_they both thought.

"Headmaster, I can go on my own. I know what-can't you just ignore their...___suggestion_ and just let me go by myself? If Professor Snape-"

"That is enough, Miss Granger. I think this is for the best. Severus, you only need to be sure Miss Granger arrives, then you can Floo back."

"Headmaster, this is-"

"Truly, I'll-"

"Enough. I've made my decision. The matter is closed, Severus. Miss Granger, I would like you to stay."

With narrowed eyes, Severus rose from his chair. For just a moment, he met the brown orbs of his most promising student...and for just that moment, they were on level ground. Neither was happy with this decision, the other knew. His movements were quickly and lacked their normal grace as he exited the office, scowling at the knowledge of his task.

"Sir, I'm sure my mother wouldn't care if I went alone." Brown eyes met blue seconds after the door clicked shut. Words filled with pleading fell from her lips as she leaned forward, begging him without words to reconsider. The sight of his apologetic expression and tired gaze caused her shoulders to sag. She wouldn't win this argument.

"She wouldn't, you're right. But your grandmother would. Please don't argue, Miss Granger," he replied with a sigh. "I know your grandmother, and she won't change her mind."

"I know you know her. But can't I just ask? I don't think she'd be too happy if Professor Snape managed to see the house," Hermione added in one last attempt to regain her freedom.

A silence fell as he not only considered her words, but they both contemplated the rage of her grandmother Leda.

Taking out her wand, she tapped her Galleon and muttered an unintelligible incantation before he could speak.

"Hermione Sparta! What are you doing? What's wrong?" Much like a Muggle cell phone, the enchanted coin could transmit images and voices as well as written words.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Grandmother, but Headmaster Dumbledore insists that I be watched and followed through the Floo to be sure that I get home safely."

"By whom, Albus?"

"Severus Snape."

"Snape! No, indeed. I will not have my family put in danger. I shall send Menelaus. It will still be dangerous, but far less so," she added as a muttered after-thought.

"Grandmother!" "Leda!" Both exclaimed in shock, neither having not expected such a reaction.

"Well, they can't go by Floo if they're posing as Muggles."

"I shall come if needed, Leda."

"I can't allow that Albus, I'm sorry. And don't raise your voice to me, young lady! I shall see you in a week. Stay close to Harry, Hermione."

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione said resignedly. "Grandmother, do you think they'll ever be able to know?"

"I'm not sure, Hermione. But you know what the consequences will be if you do tell them. Albus, I shall speak with you in two weeks, yes?"

"Of course, Leda. Good day."

"Good day to you," the old lady said before her image disappeared from the coin.

"Very well, Miss Granger. We will leave in an hour."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, standing up. Dumbledore rose also. Fawkes sang a few notes and vanished. She went to the door and stopped, hand on the handle.

"I do respect your intentions, and I'm grateful for the protection you offer me and my family, sir."

"I do what I can, Miss S-Granger. You are able to protect yourself should the need arise, but I don't want to take unnecessary risks."

"I thank you on behalf of my family. You are most generous. I'm not sure how I can ever repay you." Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

"Pish tosh, my dear. Your family is ancient and powerful. I shall do all I can, you may rest assured."

Hermione let go of the door handle and did something no resident of the castle other than Dumbledore had ever seen her do. She lowered into a full curtsey, swept her hand back in a graceful arch, and rose. Dumbledore inclined his head in solemn acknowledgment. Hermione opened the door and stepped carefully onto the revolving staircase to be carried back to the corridor, sending a quick smile over her shoulder.

The aging wizard watched as she returned from the respectful, rule-bred, confident young woman she presented to him, as Headmaster, to a girl who loved to study and had a sense of adventure. This girl had been raised in the Muggle world and had been called many things in her time at Hogwarts. They were both the same girl, but to most people she could only show one of those sides, he thought sadly.

[-]

[-]

AN: Well? What do you think?


	3. Tag, Tailors and Tomorrows

**Chapter Two**

**Tag, Tailors and Tomorrows**

A few days later, the Golden Trio sat in the living room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Hermione sat in a chair before the fire, her hand flying across Muggle paper as she took notes from _Liber Regalis._ She flicked her eyes towards Harry and smiled when she saw him. He sat farther from the flames, carefully polishing his treasured Firebolt. She glanced at Ron and wrinkled her nose as he stuffed multiple Cauldron Cakes in his mouth without chewing.

Without Mrs. Black's portrait screaming from it's former position in the entry corridor, the house was nearly silent. She reminded herself to thank Remus, Sirius and Mr. Weasley when she next saw them. She shook her head, smiling to herself as she returned to her research.

"Herm, could you pass me a Cauldron Cake?" She didn't look up from her book.

"Get it yourself, Ron."

"Harry?"

"Not unless you want to eat lots and lots of broom polish, mate," Harry said, grinning and showing his filthy hands for emphasis. The other two grimaced, and with a sigh, Ron got up and got the sweet himself.

"That wasn't hard, was it, Ron?"

"'That wasn't hard, was it?'" he mimicked in a high, squeaky voice.

Hermione smiled to herself when he blanched as she reached for her wand.

"Hermione! Couldn't you wait until I got mine out first?" Harry asked, laughing.

"Now that's not fair, two on one," Ron said, backing up to the staircase and bolting up it. Still grinning, the others ran after him, their wands out. They narrowly missed Sirius on the way up. He laughed and offered to help the duo. "No helping!" Ron yelled from a higher level. Harry and Hermione arrived breathlessly on the top floor; they looked around curiously, not having spent much time up here.

"Here, Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie," Hermione called. She taunted him with the hated nickname as surely as he called her "'Mione". A crash sounded from behind a closed door, revealing his location moments before he appeared in the doorway.

"'Mione, don't call me that," he groaned. The memory of the day he'd received his Prefect's badge ran through his mind, making him shudder. Some things should not be done between family (such as nicknames like "Ronnie"). Clearly the twins never got that memo.

Before either could say another word, they were called for lunch. Chicken pot pie sat steaming on the table as they made their way towards the kitchen. The scents of home-cooked food drew them through the door as their stomachs growled.

"How's your shop, guys?" Hermione asked as she took her seat. She looked between the twins.

"Mph govin vod, Mivee."

"What was that?"

Fred swallowed his pie. "I said, it's going good, 'Mione."

Sirius snorted with suppressed laughter; George had been whispering Muggle jokes to him for the past five minutes. Placing a napkin over his mouth in a desperate attempt to hold in his food, Sirius nearly choked on laughter. On the other side of George, Ron did choke as he heard the tail end of the latest crude joke.

"Okay, that's it. No more jokes at the table. I want quiet so the rest of us can eat," Molly Weasley chided in her motherly way.

"Molly, really, calm down," Sirius said after gulping his drink.

"Don't 'Molly' me." The others went on talking. Upset, Molly turned to her husband for help.

"This isn't our house, Molly, it's Sirius'," was all he said.

"Sirius, why don't you come with us to Diagon Alley? We're going in a few days," Harry said.

"Harry, Professor Dumbledore sa-"

"He's a free man, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione reminded her. Defeated, Molly stood and started doing the dishes. The others shuffled off to the library. Remus entered a few minutes later.

"So what's all this about Diagon Alley?"

"We're going in two days to finish our Christmas shopping. Since you're not wanted any more..." Harry trailed off hopefully.

"Maybe I should go," Remus said thoughtfully. Peter Pettigrew had been caught by the Ministry the previous spring and was now serving a life sentence in Azkaban. His Order of Merlin had been stripped from him and the truth had at last come out about Sirius' innocence of any wrongdoing.

[-]

Diagon Alley was packed with people desperate to finish their last minute holiday shopping. There were whispers as people noticed Sirius, yet none paid them any mind. Why should they, when there were more important things to speak of beside the Ministry of Magic and an innocent man who was framed?

Tonks, Hermione, Molly, Ginny, Remus, Sirius, Harry, Ron and the twins somehow navigated the busy shops without causing trouble.

The unlikely group went to Madam Milkin's after a detour to the ice cream shop. The group quickly separated to find what they wanted. With a single-minded purpose, Hermione moved toward the back of the shop where a witch sat at a desk writing a list.

"Excuse me," said Hermione. "I'd like to see Mr. Lazol."

"Sorry, Miss, he's busy just now. I can-"

"Nonsense, I'm here." A man with gray-green eyes and knowing smile looked between the witches before him.

"Oh...here's Mr. Lazol...now," the clerk finished as the tips of her ears became red. Embarrassed, she turned back to her work without another word.

With a chuckle, the older wizard led Hermione through the same door he'd just exited. She closed it behind him without being asked.

"Hello, my dear. I presume you need a robe for Christmas?"

"Yes," she replied. He led her through a curtain into a room full of elegant gowns and robes.

"Your grandmother told me it will be...very formal," Mr. Lazol said hesitantly. Hermione frowned and faced him squarely.

"Mr. Lazol?"

"Yes, Miss?"

"What's going to happen at the party?"

"Something important, madam," he replied as he disappeared through a second doorway at the back of the smaller room.

Hermione groaned. Despite her upbringing, the months she spent living as a Muggle always gave her an unease with formality. "Please don't call me that."

Lazol swept back into the room with a long, light blue gown in his arms. After trying it on, Hermione said, "Perfect."

"Good. I shall send this to your home; and I'll see you at the ball," he said, offering her his hand to assist her in stepping off of the dais. With a polite nod, Hermione exited the room and made her way through the store, leaving Mr. Lazol packing up the dress.

"There you are! Now we can leave," Molly said.

"Did I keep you waiting?"

"No, no. Now, let's go." The group started their long walk back to Grimmauld Place.

[-]

Later that evening at the Order's headquarters, Sirius caught Hermione for a brief chat.

"You're leaving tomorrow, right?" he asked.

"Yes, Sirius."

"Where do we address our letters to?"

"Just put my name on them. Don't worry, the owls will find me. If you're not sure, give them to the Headmaster." She went upstairs before any more questions could be asked.

Up in her room, Hermione pulled out her nightclothes and bath things. In the bathroom she warded the door and filled the tub. She stared in the mirror, watching her own hand run through her hair. The bushy mane lost it's volume and fell to gentle curls as static clung to her fingers. Standing proud at five-seven, the locks fell halfway down her back. She met her own eyes with confidence and stared upon the multitude of hues which made her brown orbs. Birthmarks appeared upon her bared flesh as she ran her hands over pebbled skin.

Turning away from the mirror, she lowered herself into the tub and closed her eyes. For now, she would only be. She would not think, or would she speak. She would not remember, nor fantasize. Here, she was neither student nor teacher nor witch or Muggle; she merely was.

Thirty minutes later, she laid in bed, asleep, her true appearance hidden behind a multitude of charms...just as her true self lay buried beneath layers of secrets and lies.


	4. Wait, What!

**Chapter Three**

**Wait...What?**

**Trigger Warning: **Mention of pedophilic behavior

At nine the next morning, Hermione said goodbye to her groggy friends and stepped through the Floo. She emerged into an empty, sparely furnished room, a dress laying upon a chair. With a thick skirt and long sleeves, the simple garment perfectly suited for winter.

Just what she would have chosen.

Once changed, she stepped into the hall with a smile playing on her lips. She knew that despite their familial status, formalities would be observed. She stood straight with her shoulders back and chin up. Her hands were steady as she brushed an uncharmed lock of hair from her face.

She rounded the corner and stopped when she saw her family. Her breath caught in her throat as she blinked back tears. It felt as if it had been years since she'd seen them. Clearing her throat, she respectfully bowed her head before speaking.

"My Lord and Lady, King and Queen," she said clearly, lowering into a deep curtsey. Her grandparents nodded ever so slightly and her parents returned her gesture.

"It's an honor to see you again." Her voice was thick with tears of happiness as she spoke. Though the formal words fell from her lips with practiced ease, they were nothing but true.

"Hello, Princess. It's good to see you again, also," replied an elder gentleman with gray hair and wise, green-brown eyes. Agamemnon Sparta smiled at his grandchild, quirking his lip at the side to let her know he found the formality just as silly.

Years of such rituals told her that was the cue. Raising her skirt from the floor, Hermione closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around her family. The scents of home and family filled her lungs as she closed her eyes, relishing the warmth of their embrace.

"It's good to be home again."

"It's a miracle-my children are together again." A woman, also an elder, stepped back from the hug. Leda Sparta, grandmother of Hermione, smiled at the younger generations before her. "Come, my dear, we have much to discuss." Two house-elves appeared as she held out a hand for the youngest witch.

Hermione silently sighed in relief as they gave her a reprieve from what promised to be a long day of duties.

"Majesty, the Duke of Ireland is here," the male house-elf murmured, his lips twisted in what could only be called a scowl. He stood next to the Grand Queen and Grand King, head tilted back to look at them both.

Unnoticed, the second house elf looked round. Her magic had said...the wards had registered... She squealed as her eyes fell upon their target.

"Miss Hermione, you're home!"

"Yes, Tara, I'm home," Hermione said with a smile. The house-elf curtseyed with shaking legs as Hermione slowly descended to her knees. Tara rushed into her open arms and Hermione rose and spun her around, holding her tightly.

"Miss has grown," murmured the elf as she blinked back tears. Neither woman paid attention to the first elf as he lead the Grand King and Queen towards the entrance hall.

"Yes, I have." The elf wiped tears away after Hermione had put her down.

"Come, Miss, we have much to do." Without hesitation, Tara turned from the family and made her way down the hall.

"You may go, just be sure to be back before lunch." Light brunette locks were pushed back to reveal honey eyes. Hermione met her mother's eye with gratitude.

"Thank you, mother. Tara, I'm coming, slow down," Hermione called, racing after the young elf.

"It'll have to be soon, Menelaus. I don't want my daughter, the future of the wizarding world, and the last of our line, to go on living this sort of life any longer. We only have to act like Muggles twice a year, for an hour at most. She has to-"

"I know, Helen, I shall speak with mother and father. Voldemort will strike soon," he added as he cupped her cheek. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, closing his eyes for a moment as the horrid truth sunk in once more

"I'm too young for this, Menel," she whispered as she met the forest-green orbs of the man who had long ago captured her heart.

"I know, my dear, but she's been fighting the war with Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter since she was eleven."

"They need to be told."

"I agree." They stood there together, contemplating their family's future.

[-]

Lunch was served in the garden which, despite the winter months, was in full bloom. Wands were laid upon the table or stored appropriately. There was no need to keep them in hand, not at home...not on this day, when all were gathered.

"Grandmother, what was the Duke doing here? I thought you...disagreed with his governing system."

"I do, Hermione. But he is the wizarding world's last public royal, heaven save us, and has business to conclude. He will be dying soon," she added as almost an after thought.

"How unfortunate," Hermione replied in a bland voice that suggested otherwise. She sipped her drink to clear her mouth. The taste of his title...it was nearly as foul as the man's spirit.

"Yes, well, enough about him," Agamemnon said with a note of finality. He fell silent as the others nodded, none having any inclination to pursue the current topic.

The small family was still cross with the dying Duke, for he had made several rude comments to Hermione well before the age of maturity. Comments which, drunk or not, he knew were so far beyond inappropriate there were few words to describe them.

In honor of Hermione's seventh birthday, a party amongst the magical monarchies of the Western hemisphere. She had begun her lessons of magic and duty early enough to understand the night was not merely a birthday celebration. After a nod from her father, she curtseyed and accepted a dance from the Duke. She looked up at his tall frame with something akin to curiosity.

"You look gorgeous tonight, Your Highness," he'd said, causing Hermione to giggle.

"Thank you, sir."

"I'll bet you can't wait to be Queen."

"I can, sir, I'm too young."

"There are ways to become older, Princess Hermione."

Without a doubt, he was thrown from the party for attempting to take liberties with the child Princess. It need not be said that everyone's wands were on him, hated as he was by all present. To this day he was said not only be a scoundrel in business and politics, but also the worst sort of person. None held trust for the ailing man, nor pity.

Hermione twisted her fork between her fingertips as she pushed the night from her mind. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she turned to her mother. "Mother, I think it's time that Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley be told the truth." She waited for the argument which was surely come and nearly fell from her seat at her father's works.

"I've also been thinking about that lately."

"It could be...beneficial to your protection," Leda murmured as she laid a hand upon Hermione's to still her nervous habit.

"I don't completely believe that, Leda. She's more powerful than those two combined. Don't blush, Hermione, it's true," Agamemnon added firmly. Pride shone in his eyes as he looked upon the young witch.

Without a word of question, all stood and made their way to the sitting room just inside the door. They settled within seats before the fire, never pausing in their conversation.

"How much do you want them to know?"

"Not much. Harry has enough to worry about. He's even more restless because of the prophecy. He believes he has to defeat Voldemort." The sovereign Lord and Lady smiled, both pleased by the knowledge she wanted to tell them little and saddened at hearing of Harry's troubles.

"And we need him to keep believing that," Leda reminded her.

"I'm not sure if Ron should be told; he's jealous enough as it is," Hermione told them. She cast her eyes upon the white-hot embers buried in the bright orange flames.

"Very well. Do you think they should be invited to the ball?" Helen asked as she watched her daughter.

"I'm sorry, but no. That would split all of my friendships."

"Very wise, dear," her father replied.

"Thank you. I would like to have them to stay during the summer, if I may."

"The entire summer?" Agamemnon asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, grandfather. Just for a week or two."

He nodded with approval and smiled when she did. They knew each other well. It was no surprise they had the same thought regarding the time she would spend with the boys.

"Who will be at the Christmas Ball?" Hermione asked as she turned back to her grandmother. Leda began reading names off her mental list without hesitation, eyes becoming unfocused as she ran through the long roster. All those in attendance knew her family at the very least.

"-and of course, your professors," added the elder monarch with a nod of her head.

"Ex-excuse me?" Hermione choked on her drink, sputtering the words as she stared at the eldest Queen with horror.

"You heard me." Leda narrowed her eyes slightly, daring her to argue. Their eyes locked in a battle of wills before Hermione looking away for the barest second.

"Is Professor Trelawney coming?"

"We made an exception in her case," Helen interjected before voices could raise once more.

"And Professor Snape?" came the sullen question.

"We feel he should attend," Menelaus replied diplomatically. He chuckled under his breath as Hermione groaned and put a pillow over her face.

"Hermione!" Her name echoed through the room as four sets of eyes stared at her uncharacteristically childish behavior.

"I'm entitled to show my disapproval. Severus Snape has never been nice to me." She continued to press the pillow to her face, allowing herself the moment of...well, the only thing it could be called was teenage angst.

"That's no excuse. Severus Snape will be here for the ball, and that's final," Leda said sternly, clearly indicating that the discussion was over. There were ball preparations to begin.

[-]

AN: Please review


	5. The Ball

**Chapter Four**

**The Ball**

A mere week after her return home, Hermione felt her heart beat with nerves. She paced the room, glancing at the silver mirror with each pass. Her eyes jumped between the large silvered-glass to her room, over the door and settled on her gown. The sound of rustling fabric and slippers sliding over carpet barely registered in her chaotic mind. She pressed a hand to her throat and closed her eyes for a moment.

The fitted sleeves felt as if they were cutting into her flesh. Yet as she run her fingers over the soft material, she knew they weren't. The tiara upon her head was like a stone. Her temples throbbed as she continued to pace. Was it really _tonight?_ In just a few minutes, would she really be introduced?

With a sigh, she looked at the mirror once more. The gentle, muted blue of her gown was simply lovely. The long skirt brushed her dancing slippers without a single gap. The dress was perfect, elegant enough for a royal ball, but simple enough to not make her appear arrogant.

It was times like these she really wished she could wear her school dress robes. When she could be _just_ Muggle-born Hermione Granger and not Princess Hermione Sparta, Heir Apparent to the majority of this part of the Western Hemisphere's wizarding world.

A gentle knock on the heavy door behind her signaled it was time to leave another part of her facade behind. Tonight, Hermione Granger would begin to cease.

Tonight, Hermione Sparta would take the first step towards replacing her.

[-]

On a lower floor, in a ballroom lit by candles, magic and fea alike, the gathered crowd waited. Music was barely heard over the buzz of multi-lingual conversations. Voices blurred together, much like the faces of the ones speaking, as the noise continue to rise.

Observing the crowd from near the back wall, Albus Dumbledore sighed softly to himself. The overpowering mixture of perfume, flora and food tickled his nose. He turned his gaze to his professors and sipped his drink. They had no idea of where they were or what was to happen. He had given them their invitations, as instructed, and told them in no uncertain terms they were to attend the ball.

He ran a hand down his robe, knowing the time was near by the shifting of the people.

"Albus," came the voice from his left, "as much as I am enjoying this...why are we here?" Minerva met the azure orbs of her long time friend, searching for deceit. She felt the corner of her lips quirk as his eyes crinkled.

"Patience, Minerva," was all he told her as he continue to meet her gaze. He smiled and she huffed, knowing he would tell her nothing more. Shaking her head, she turned away from the infuriating wizard.

Severus paid little attention to the exchange behind him. His mind worked furiously. His nerves thrummed with energy as he searched for answers none could or would give him. He barely contained a scowl as he took in the ornate yet sophisticated chamber. The marble under his boots struck a half-forgotten memory and he brushed it away. The floors weren't important. A location _was_. Yes, as a spy, every detail mattered; but with what appeared to be the most important people in the global wizarding world gathered in one place...small details like the veined marble really wasn't something he was interested in.

With a growl, he turned to the man he'd considered a friend and mentor. Their minds locked before their eyes even met. He knew Albus understood his worry of such a gathering. He also knew the Order's leader knew exactly where they were. He was a spy, damn it all, and could not do his job―his duty―without the information which that damnable man was keeping!

"I don't understand why I am _here_, Albus," he murmured softly. "If I am Summoned and unable to leave, it will be your fault."

Remus Lupin cared little for Severus' anger, nor for Albus' games. He continued to scan the chamber and adjoining doors with narrowed eyes. Hermione's scent filled his nostrils, telling him she was near. But why? He swallowed a soft growl and blinked to clear the gold from his eyes. Now wasn't the time to allow the wolf free. As manipulative as Albus may be, he wouldn't allow Hermione to be hurt.

Right?

A loud voice sliced through their thoughts. Heads turned as one towards the speaker, silence reining as his words carried with ease. As he spoke, the doors behind him opened. "I would like to thank you all for attending this magnificent gathering this evening." Eric Lazol paused as he scanned the faces with a gentle smile. For just a moment, his eyes landed upon the Hogwarts professors.

He stepped to the side as he addressed the group once more. "It is my honor to present the Grand King and Queen, Lord Agamemnon and Lady Leda." He spoke clearly, bowing deeply while sweeping a hand towards the doors. Without hesitation, Leda and Agamemnon stepped through the darkened threshold. Their heads held high, they looked upon those gathered with curiosity.

"I present King Menelaus and Queen Helen." The words broke through the haze of the professors' shock. Instinctively, they had bowed before the Grand Lord and Lady, and now they did so once more.

Leda and Agamemnon stood to the right side of the landing while Menelaus and Helen moved to the left. A silent buzz ran through the room as Eric paused. Few knew what was to come, and those who didn't waited with anticipation. Their eyes looked between the monarchy and the speaker.

"And now I present the long awaited Princess Hermione."

He rose from the bow, blinking back tears. It was a great honor, he knew, to introduce the powerful woman who was seconds from stepping through the doorway. An honor he would carry always, to remind himself of why he did what he did.

Hermione took a deep breath as she heard her name. She faltered once before stepping from the shadowed chamber into the lighted hall. She surveyed the crowd calmly, never betraying her nerves. Her eyes slid without hesitation over the diplomats she knew and those she _knew of_ before settling on her professors. She held their collective gaze for what felt like hours, though it was merely a few seconds.

Clearing her throat, she crossed her wrists over her heart. Her palms tingled as magic raced through her. It dug gently into her feet and rushed up her spine only to roll down her arms and gather in her hands. "Welcome, everyone, and thank you for coming," she told them with a sincere smile. "You do not know what this means to me. But enough talk-let the ball begin!" She flung her arms wide, her smiling widening as the energy flew from her and into the vast chamber. The fea danced along the ceiling as the music resumed once more. The castle wards tugged at her, accepting her offering as they strengthened.

"Good job, Princess," Leda said softy as she stepped forward. She laid a hand upon the younger woman's shoulder, knowing she was a bundle of giddy nerves. "Very well done."

"Thank you, my Lady. I hope I made you proud."

"You did. Let's go start the dancing, shall we?" her grandfather said. He offered his arm to his wife and led her down the stairs onto the ballroom floor. A few moments later, Menelaus and Helen followed. Hermione trailed behind them, hand on Eric's arm. The three couples started the dancing, and a few minutes later the other guests joined them.

"Sir, are all these people bound to silence?" Hermione asked quietly. A slight hitch in her breath belayed her anxiety, despite her impassive expression. Eric chuckled just as quietly as he gave her an proud smile.

"Always the insightful one. Yes, they are," he replied before bowing as their dance ended. She returned the gesture with the appropriate curtsey.

Swallowing, she steeled her nerves and made her way to her professors. A smile fluttered over her trembling lips as she saw the shock which still marred their features. The sight of her Transfiguration, Potions, Defense, Herbology and Charms Masters and Mistresses bowing only stoked her amusement further. Their formal behavior was out of place with her image of them and possibly always would be.

She inclined her head to the group as a whole before dipping her knee ever so slightly towards the Headmaster. Despite her status as their future monarch, her heart thudded in her chest. No matter her age, no matter her birthright, they would always be her professors. And no student in their right mind would _ever_ want to be standing before this many professors.

"Thank you for inviting us, Your Highness," came the husky words which met her silent greeting.

The feel of her hand being lifted and parchment-dry lips brushing over them pulled her from her thoughts. Mentally shaking her head (_you're not in trouble, Hermione_), she returned her attention to Albus. "My pleasure, Headmaster. Thank you for coming. I do hope you are enjoying yourselves."

"Of course, though I believe you may have petrified our Potions Master," Dumbledore replied with a smile. His eyes twinkled as he glanced between his Princess and spy. His lips twitched as he fought not to laugh, noting the barely-hidden once over they gave each other.

"I daresay his students will be delighted by the news," the young witch replied with an equally amused smile.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, chuckling slightly as he spied the faint blush rising upon the Potion Masters' face.

"Do cheer up, Severus," he admonished quietly. "'Twas only a matter of time fore you learned the truth."

"I suppose," Severus replied silkily. He did nothing to hide his annoyance with his employer. His disdain for being mocked was clear as he met the sparkling blue eyes of his mentor.

Hermione bit her cheek, feeling like an intruder as she watched the silent conversation unfold before her. Never had she been so relieved to see her parents as she was in that moment. Silently thanking the Fates, she turned to face them.

"Hermione, somehow the Duke of Ireland has got hold of an official invitation and he has just arrived," her father said. His voice remained quiet, void of all emotion. His face as a blank mask as though his words meant nothing.

"I'm not allowed to throw him out, am I?" she muttered more to herself than her parents. For a moment, she forgot the professors standing behind them. Annoyance and disgust nearly broke through her polite, diplomatic expression. How had the night turned so sour?

"Afraid not. As you will have to speak with him eventually, I suggest you wait for one of us to be with you," Helen added just as quietly. Her eyes flicked to the witches and wizards standing behind her daughter, though for the moment she paid them no mind. They knew not what was spoken of, nor could they hear even if they did.

"Yes, I don't want to have to talk to him twice."

"Good." With a smile, Helen and Menelaus returned to the crowds.

"If I may ask, who is the Duke of Ireland and what issue is caused by his presence?" Minerva questioned carefully, her tone one of respectful curiosity. When Hermione told them the story, she huffed in indignation. Such a person didn't deserve to be called a _man_, let alone a Duke.

"Well, I never. This is outrageous, Miss Gra-" She broke off as confusion painted her face. Embarrassment stained her cheeks as her eyes darted between the young woman before them and her employer.

"I'm Miss Sparta here, but Granger in school," Hermione said with a casual smile, causing the older witch to relax.

[-]

Hours passed in a blur of voices and motion. The last dance was mere moments away. Each step, each beat of her heart only ticked down the seconds. There was two options left and sitting out was impossible. Severus Snape or the Duke.

Shuddering, she quickly searched for the spy and made her way to him.

"Professor."

He turned slowly, the subtle scent of lilacs having drawn his attention before her voice. The sound of rustling silk told him she was not as at ease as her voice portrayed. When he faced her, he was unsurprised to see the slightest of crinkles around her eyes and mouth. For a second, his heart went out to her. A kindred spirit stared back at him, someone who had to play dual, if not triple, roles in a world of mayhem.

The barely noticeable tremble in his own voice brought him back to reality. "Princess."

Irritation and exhaustion gnawed at her frayed nerves and care for appearances. She didn't care if she offended him with her request, nor did she care for his scrutiny. Unwilling to waste time, she didn't blink before speaking bluntly.

"Sir, would you dance with me?"

Blinking, the dark eyed wizard studied the woman before him. She appeared worn, as if she hadn't rested in weeks. He knew it was more than the ball and secrets that was slowly wearing her down to nothing. He held her gaze as she extended a hand in offering.

But why _him_? The answer came quickly.

The sound of a loud voice drew his eyes from hers. He held back a sneer for her sake as he saw what had made her flee to find sanctuary with him. A tipsy, nearly drunk wizard was bustling towards them. The Duke was clearly intent on claiming her hand for the dance.

"An honor, Miss Sparta." He led her to the floor and placed a hand around her waist, the other still clasping hers. Silence fell between them for a few bars before he spoke.

"Are you tired, Miss Sparta?" he asked gently after she unsuccessfully smothered a yawn. He spun her around the floor, slow enough to let her keep up but quickly enough they wouldn't be censured.

"It sounds like you've heard about my day-no, about this past week. I should ask if you are tired, sir." She grumbled under her breath in annoyance. What a stupid question to ask! The man was supposed to be a spy, had he no observation skills?

"No, thank you, Princess," he murmured as he bit back a smile. So it appeared the Gryffindor lioness wasn't only an act. Hermione Sparta did in fact have a temper.

Self-preservation caused him to keep that amusing fact to himself. Princess or not, she would surely hex him if he appeared to mock her.

"You really should smile more often, Professor Snape." He snorted and took her through a sharp turn. Hermione stumbled and smiled her thanks for his tightened grip on her waist.

"Sir, I have a question." Exhaustion truly was eating at common sense. She knew that without a fact. Under no other circumstances would she entertain asking what she was about to.

A hysterical giggle bubbled in her chest as she met his eyes. She was dancing with _Snape!_ She hadn't even wanted him here! Well, thank her grandmother for being so adamant. He'd saved her from the Duke.

"Yes?" Curiosity sparked within him as he raised an eyebrow.

"In my fourth year, did you really mean what you said about my teeth?" She blinked owlishly as he spun them a bit faster than previously.

"I apologize." He spoke slowly as the song began to taper off. "No Miss Gra-Sparta, I did not. While I may not always...enjoy...teaching certain students, I do not see the point in being unnecessarily cruel. My role is what it is, and at times, I must act in ways which are...not kind."

His calm explanation brought a soft smile to her face. As the last note rang through the dance hall, she met his eyes. "Thank you."

As he bowed, he placed a hand over his heart. The slightest of pangs drove through his chest as she walked away. Shaking his head, he vowed not to drink another sip of anything his colleagues recommended. What should have been regular water was clearly spiked. Heartburn from a drink was a wonderful way to end the night.

Hermione rubbed her neck as she sipped sparkling juice. The sugar ran through her, keeping her awake. "How people can have parties like this every month his beyond me," she muttered to herself. Her comfortable, soft, warm bed just a floor above called to her. Hiding a yawn behind her hand, she shook her head.

The night wasn't over yet.

She walked aimlessly, more intent on keeping herself awake than reaching a destination.

"H-hello, Princess." Startled, she spun to face whoever had spoken behind her. Without realizing, she had wandered into the gardens.

"Good evening, Your Grace," she said sweetly. She slipped her wand from her sleeve as she took several steps away from the man before her. Even drunk, he still thought like the vile disgrace of a being he was. He was a threat, one she would not let gain the upper hand.

"The night is y-young," he told her with a leer. Staggering, he tried to close the distance between them only to growl as she backed away once more.

"As is Princess Sparta." This time, the voice in the shadows was welcome. A familiar silhouette emerged from the walkway.

"I wasn't sure if you'd find the garden, Professor Snape. As I said, we have some rare specimens you might be interested in." Her heart pounded as the lie fell from her lips. Twice this night he had saved her from the lecherous advances of the gaunt, drunk wizard. Her hand shook ever so slightly as she returned her wand to her sleeve.

"Yes, a wide variety. Ah, and this must be the Duke that I've heard so much about." With a sneer, the younger wizard faced his elder. Disgust rolled in his gut.

He knew 'men' like the one that stood before him. In fact, people like him were the ones he was forced to call brothers, forced to fight beside under the orders of Voldemort. The pathetic excuse for humanity was much too drunk to notice his distaste, however. A pity, that. Would've been delightful if he had.

"Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners? Professor Snape, the Duke of Ireland. Your Grace, Professor Severus Snape." Instinctively, she moved closer to the man who had helped make her school years a living hell. She nearly leapt from her skin as he placed an arm around her shoulders.

"Excuse us, Your Grace, we must be going," Severus said. Without waiting for a reply, he turned steered them towards the open doors.

She entered the brightly lit ballroom with a tight smile and fiery eyes. As Severus' arm slipped from her shoulders, she spotted her family all but rushing towards them.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Grandfather. Professor Snape arrived before I needed to use my wand."

Leda smiled gratefully, relief draining tension from her rigid form. "Thank you, Professor."

"I was hardly going to leave her at the mercy of _that_," he told her, his head tilted towards the stumbling Duke.

Hermione turned to him, her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised, exhaustion forgotten. Menelaus and Agamemnon both shuddered, knowing that look. Their wives had taught it to her, and both men had been on the receiving end of it.

"Is that so?"

His colleagues had arrived as the guest began to leave. They looked between the monarchy and the dark wizard, all biting back sympathetic yet amused expressions.

Useless, the lot of them. They should be defending him, not trying not to laugh. Mentally cursing his fellow professors, he flicked his gaze between them, her, and her family. Which was the most threatening again? He'd bet his salary the witch before him was.

His lips twitched at the thought. Princess or not...Hermione Sparta/Granger couldn't do much harm.

Could she?

Better to err on the side of caution.

"Well, I can hardly do anything at school. I am a spy, and unless you'd rather I risk or even lose such a vital position in this war, then I ask you not to expect chivalry."

"I didn't say I expected chivalry, did I?" Hurt laced her words. His accusation cut deeply, far deeper than she wished to admit to herself. In the few short hours he had been here, she'd thought they'd come to some sort of understanding.

Albus cleared his throat. His eyes burned with anger as he spoke quickly. His words were clipped as he held his spy's hooded gaze. "Severus, I need to speak to you."

Severus didn't react, though he felt dread choke him. He had nearly exposed himself.

Taking a breath, he nodded to the older wizard, bowed to Hermione and her family, and quickly made his way to the Apparation point. As he walked the halls, annoyance grated at him. What was it about this woman, Hermione Sparta, that made him forget himself? When she was merely Hermione Granger, he had been drawn to her compassion despite her excessive need to show off.

As he neared the room, something made him stop. He look over his shoulder, staring down the corridor to the dance hall. What about her called to him?

Shaking his head, he stepped into a shadowed corner and prepared to wait. He knew she would leave the hall eventually.

[-]

In the ball room, Hermione stared after him in shock. She looked quickly between her professors and Albus. "Headmaster, wha-"

He raised a hand, cutting her off before she could ask. "I am sorry, Miss Sparta. I forgot you are used to being informed, but I can not discuss these matters here." With a bow, he turned and took the same path Severus had minutes before.

"As it's almost two, I think we should retire also. Good night." With a curtsey, Minerva followed her employer. After several moments, the other professors took their cue and also left.

Hermione blinked, not sure what just happened and also not sure if she really wanted to know.

[-]

It didn't take long for his suspicions to be confirmed. Within the half-hour, she closed the ball room doors to signal all guests had left and made her way towards the stairs.

He quickly closed the distance between them, calling quietly so as not to startle her when he was within hearing range. "Your Highness, may I speak with you?"

A tired, amused smile turned her mouth upwards to reveal a hint of white teeth. Somehow, she had known. Ignoring the protest of her aching feet, she stopped and turned to face him.

"Yes, Professor?"

The signs of fatigue were obvious. He knew this would be a short conversation, for both their sake He had kept Albus waiting, and both of them needed rest. He took a step closer, careful to maintain a neutral posture . After the near-miss with the Duke, he knew she would be wary of further advance.

He spread his hands to show he was unarmed. Years of training, observing, teaching, learning...it had all given him knowledge, knowledge he often times wish he didn't have. He was a teacher, a spy, a warrior for both leaders of the war. Experience told him it was better to bare his throat than raise his hackles. She was on edge, he could see it just as clearly as her tiredness. She was running on instinct without realizing it.

"I was wondering if I might see the gardens someday. They smelt exquisite."

He kept his voice low both out of respect for the late hour and their stations. His compliment and request were genuine, but he was no sycophant, not to her. He respected her, both as a person and a princess. But he would not grovel, no matter her physical or mental state.

Their eyes met as the a distant clock chimed a quarter 'till. Her mask dropped. She knew he knew. He was too observant not to.

Her gaze flickered to his open hands and then over his face. Seeing he was sincere, she allowed herself a small smile. She was grateful for the compliment as well as his attempt to ensure her comfort. She knew he knew she was running on instinct. How could one not, in a state of such exhaustion? Yet her instincts told her he was safe. He had proven such tonight.

Though she had to admit. The sight of his bare hands spread for her was rather amusing.

Swallowing yet another hysterical giggle, she nodded as her smile grew. "Of course, sir. How about tomorrow?"

"If you're not too busy..." He trailed off, meeting her eyes yet again. It was her choice, her decision.

"No, sir. I have no school work or duties just now. In fact, I was going to harvest tomorrow before starting a new project. You are more than welcome to join me."

"Thank you very much, Miss Sparta. Now, I must bid you good night."

Her eyes remained on him even as he took her hand and bowed over it. Much as Albus Dumbledore had earlier, Severus Snape brushed his lips over her knuckles. Her breath caught in her throat as his warm, chapped lips grazed her skin.

How much had she to drink again? She hadn't thought any, but now...

Raising, his onyx eyes met dark honey orbs. "Good night, Princess." With that, he bowed his head, stepped back and turned from her. It was time to return home and face the wrath of one of his masters.

Long after he'd return to Hogwarts, even after her eyes had closed and her breathing slowed, and thought about him and what tomorrow may bring.

[-]

[-]

AN: I'd thought about cutting this chapter in two...but I couldn't do it. Please review.


	6. Natural Selection I

******Chapter Five**

******Natural Selection (I)**

As the clock chimed ten the next morning, Hermione finished gathering the tools she would need for the day's harvest. Having sent an express owl to Hogwarts, she knew Professor Sn...___Severus_...would arrive within the half-hour.

"Tara?"

A quiet pop signaled the elf's arrival. She looked around the room and then at her mistress, who never looked up from her work. The elf had more than a little affection for the witch and was more than pleased she was spending the day with the dark wizard. Unlike the two humans, she could see what was right in front of her...even if it wasn't her place to point it out.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Could you please take drinks to the garden and the center of the maze?" Still, Hermione never looked up from her work.

Tara nodded and left to do asked, returning minutes later. "Anything else?" she asked, happy to be of help. And that was what she was, she knew: a helping servant. She knew that a request and an order were two extremely different things; and in this castle orders were reserved for emergencies.

"Er, yes, actually. It requires you to leave the castle for a few minutes." Finally, Hermione raised her head. A faint blush colored her cheeks as embarrassment coursed through her. How she had forgotten to ask as part of her earlier request was beyond her.

"Miss is throwing Tara out?" Tears formed in Tara's wide eyes, misery reverting her to the child-like English of her youth.

"No, no. I need a favor. I need you to ask Professor Snape if he would like to use my tools or his own."

"Yes, Miss."

Without another word, Tara the house-elf vanished with another quiet ___pop_. Hermione shook her head, wondering if she was the only one who was scatter-brained this morning.

[-]

Severus looked around his storeroom, making a mental list of ingredients he needed. Having risen early for this task, he had been able to break the night's fast long before his colleagues. With an aggravated sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. Again, he questioned himself; why had he asked to see the gardens? And for the love of all that was magical, how many had he offended by making such a request? He normally cared not for the offense of others, but she was the ___princess _of the wizarding world. His head could quite possibly roll if propriety wasn't observed.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The feeling of eyes upon his person in his private stores tore through his thoughts. Unsheathing his wand, he spun around.

There was no one behind him.

Thoughts raced through his mind faster than he could track them. He knew he was paranoid; he couldn't afford not to be. Yet his senses rarely failed him. Why had he felt something when there was nothing?

He'd also thought there was "nothing" to Hermione Granger. He'd thought she was a know-it-all muggleborn with a habit of hand waving. He'd thought her too smart for her friends. He'd-

The sound of a voice caused his eyes to shoot downward and the beginnings of a curse to come to the forefront of his mind. Before he could release the curse, he detected a wide-eyed house-elf, the royal crest upon her dress.

"Yes?" He snapped without thought, shock and embarrassment overtaking rational thought. It had been less than twenty-four hours, and already his thoughts of Hermione Gran-...Sparta had dangerously distracted him. He couldn't afford such distraction.

Especially not after Albus' reaction last night. A shiver ran down his spine at the memory.

"Miss Hermione would like to know if sir would prefer to use his own tools or some of hers." The house elf spoke quietly, wary of his temper and the wand in his hand.

He shrugged, too consumed by his chaotic thoughts to care if the action was not his normal response. "I'll bring my own."

She nodded, her eyes growing wider. "Oh, yes, sir. I shall tell her, sir." With yet another quiet pop, she left him to his thoughts.

It took him several moments to realize he was staring into space. Quickly wiping the bemused look from his face, he shook his head at himself.

Last night truly was the last night he would let his fellow professors recommend food and drink.

[-]

"The professor wishes to use his own tools, Miss," Tara spoke quickly, barely pausing to take a breath.

"Thank you Tara."

As Tara went about cleaning the already clean room, Hermione quickly made her way to the Apparation room. It took but a second to open the wards enough for Severus to enter and only another minute for him to arrive. The moment he did, they sealed closed once more.

Their eyes met as they had multiple times the night before. Words unspoken flowed between them as both held their breaths for a moment. The silence was broken by Severus' smooth timbre.

"Good morning, Your Highness."

It was odd, seeing him bow so low before her. As uncomfortable with the formality as she had been with Eric, she shook her head and gestured for him to rise.

"Good morning, Professor. Let's not stand on formality, it's only the two of us today."

Holding the door for her, he nodded in understanding. He walked ever so slightly behind her, not entirely sure which way she would lead him. They walked in strained silence to the gardens. Their baskets found a home near the door and she gestured to the garden.

"Well...here it is."

"I've never seen these before," he remarked with surprise, looking at a purple, blue, and crimson flower.

"I did say we have rare flowers. Many of them were found in the area, growing naturally. Normally we don't transplant flowers, but..." She trailed off, uncomfortable. She waited for him to comment and felt embarrassed when he didn't. ___He's here as a guest, not a professor, _admonished herself.

Severus paused in the walkway to look at a small cluster of flowers. He'd seen them before; all apprentice potion makers had. But to see them domesticated was a wonder. It had been tried many times, and very rarely did the flowers last.

"Trilliums," Hermione said quietly as she neared him. "Three white petals and three leaves. The skin of the plant is fragile; the liquid is toxic if collected or used incorrectly."

"I'm surprised you know so much about them, Miss Sparta. I know you couldn't have learned that from a book."

"You're right, I didn't. Feel free to pick some. They'll be going to seed in a few weeks."

"Thank you." Collecting their baskets, he handed hers to her before cutting a few of the flowers in silence.

"I suppose this could be considered payment for you stealing from my stores these past few years." He didn't look at her as he inspected another plants, though she thought she heard a sly smile in his voice.

Hermione made a noise between a snort and a laugh. "I suppose it could, Professor. Although, to be fair, I replaced what I took, and even left extra. How did you know I was the one taking the ingredients?"

He chuckled as if the answer should be obvious. "You left a few hairs behind."

"Ah."

"Miss G-Spa-"

"Hermione," she said lightly.

"Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "My given name is Hermione. You don't have to call me by my title or surname. Besides, I thought we weren't going to observe formalities?"

"Very well, Hermione. How was it that you became petrified?"

Hermione smirked, placed a flower in the basket, and moved towards a small table that stood nearby.

"Drink?" she asked, sitting down in the chair he pulled out for her.

"Thank you."

"I wasn't really petrified, not by the Basilisk. It was a simple potion. When I learned about the Baskilisk, I sought some...help." She avoided his gaze and sipped her drink. "Instead of taking the chance of actually being petrified, I decided to use the potion to appear petrified so I could still use my senses and mind."

He stared at at her in disbelief. Overlooking the evasion, he shook his head. "Activated?" The word sounded foreign to his ears. How long had it been since he'd been able to speak of activated potions in polite company?

"Yes, of course," Hermione turned slightly away from Severus and looking at nothing said, "Tara?"

"Yes Miss," the house-elf answered after she popped into view, wearing a broad smile for reasons known only to herself.

"Would you please bring us something to eat?"

"Oh, yes, Miss. What would you like?"

"Sir?" Hermione deferred to Severus with ease, having no knowledge of his eating habits. Despite her earlier request to forego formalities, the automatic title fell between them without thought.

He didn't comment, understanding a slip of the tongue for what it was. "Anything is fine," he said as he looked around and admired the beauty of the garden. The land surrounding the castle was much like the country around Hogwarts. The castle stood on a cliff with mountains behind it.

"A salad for me, please. And a bowl of beef stew for Professor Snape, if that's all right?"

"That sounds quite nice, actually," he replied truthfully with a small smile. Tara left without their notice.

Hermione watched the man in front of her. His long hair was tied back to keep it from being a hindrance. His normally pale face was flushed and healthy-looking without the constant potion fumes to leech it of color. The protective, billowing robes had been replaced with deep green everyday robes, much to Hermione's surprise.

But it was his eyes that were the most startling. Where they were pools of menace at the school, his black orbs were neither cruel nor dark here in the dappled sunlight of the garden. Instead, they were filled with appreciation and what she could only presume, and possibly hope, was relaxation.

He studied her just as she studied him, though his observation was done from the corner of his eye. Her long, silky chestnut hair was in a braided bun at the back of her head. The normal unisex school robes he always saw her in were replaced with adult work robes in a becoming shade of lavender. Her facial expression wasn't her accustomed know-it-all one, but was unusually content and wise.

"Here is your food, Mistress." Tara reappeared, snapping the two out of their private thoughts. Pleasure kept her smiling. She was happy Hermione had found someone to discuss and possibly brew with. Someone was intelligent and loyal was a good match for her mistress. The house-elf had watched Hermione all night at the ball. She knew how happy the princess was while she was dancing with him.

The fact that he'd brought her closer than necessary to protect her from the Duke didn't go unnoticed to the elf.

"Thank you, Tara." Tara bowed until her long nose nearly touched the floor, then vanished from sight.

"What project are you working on now?" Severus asked. He watched her through his lashes between spoonfuls of stew, wondering what she would think of the question.

Of course he knew she was working on projects. How could he not? The fact that she'd had Tara ask him if he wanted to use his own tools or not would've told him that. Sometimes Hermione wondered if more people would know about her and her family if given a bit more information. Not only about their titles, but about them as people. What were their passions, their hopes and dreams? Logic told him that, as a Potions Master, someone with her knowledge of plants and respect for instruments would mean she was at least somewhat independent in the field of potion making. Yet how many people knew of her skill, how many knew her drive for the challenging art?

She held up a finger and swallowed hastily, trying to keep those thoughts from her face. "I'll show you my notes when we go to the lab. First I want you to see something."

Their meal was finished quickly, though without true haste. Their destination would still be there, there was no need to choke themselves. They stood as their dishes were cleared, gathered their baskets and began walking. Again, he followed slightly behind her.

"Where are we going, Hermione?"

"You'll see," she replied with a twinkle and grin worthy of Dumbledore. It didn't take them long to arrive at a maze, which was a good distance from the castle.

"If the correct path is taken, you'll find some very rare flowers and creatures," she told him simply after setting her basket down. The maze was contained inside a Climate Dome which regulated the temperature for each plant and creature.

"I presume we will be taking the 'correct' path," he said, and he set down his basket as well. He watched her, not sure how to react to the fact that she didn't verbally respond. "Hermione..." he said, not sure if he was warning or pleading with her.

With an impish grin over her shoulder, Hermione ran into the maze. In this maze, in this living puzzle, she was not princess, student or warrior. She was merely a woman, a witch who enjoyed potions and learning that might have met someone who understood ___her _for her own sake... who would chase her just for curiosity's sake.

Severus chuckled and followed in quick pursuit, propriety forgotten. For just a moment, he would not be a spy, professor, solider or subject. He could be only a man, a Potions Master, a wizard who had met a witch that could possibly be an equal...and was already giving him a run for his money.

[-]

[-]

AN: They're OOC. I know. This seemed like a good place as any to break the chapter.


	7. Natural Selection II

**Natural Selection (II)**

"Look, Menel." Helen stared out the library window, nearly pressed against the glass as she watched.

"Helen, you shouldn't be spying, it's rude."

"Hmph! I shall spy on my daughter as I see fit. Do you know, she never talks about classes, or school in general, anymore." She flicked her eyes to her husband in annoyance before turning back to the window. Her breath fogged the glass as snowflakes fell. She laughed like a child as the downy specks fell atop the Climate Dome only to melt and evaporate. It lightened her heart to see Hermione happy.

"Oh, but she does," Tara said, still focused on the couple running about in the maze while she simultaneously tidied up after her mistresses and masters. From this vantage point it was perfectly clear that Hermione was not just keeping ahead of her potions master in a maze, but was involved in a game of cat and mouse that left her cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

"Yes, Hermione speaks with us," said Leda.

"Aloud? About all of her classes, Leda?" Helen questioned as she turned to face her mother-in-law.

"Well...no. Just a few. Oh, all right. Only Potions." The females shared a look and smiled knowingly. The men looked between them and each other, clueless and more than a little worried.

"Do you know about her projects, Tara?"

"Not really, Madam, just that she wanted to keep today and tomorrow clear so she could work," Tara said. She rung her hands, caught between happiness of her mistress' budding friendship, and fear at being discovered aiding the monarchs before her in breaking into Hermione's private potions lab.

"Do you think we should...?" Leda trailed off as she stood, already making her way towards the door.

"Just to be sure." The Queens pulled out their wands and quickly strode from the room. Had they not been Queens, one might have said they were actually jogging when they reached the lab. The Kings followed, not at all liking this plan.

[-]

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, conflicted between his personal and professional duties. One dictated he let his friend make his own decision, the other said to monitor his professor and spy. He didn't fear Severus would harm Hermione. But...

There was a war going on...

With a heavy heart, he continued to watch the scrying mirror. The slightest of smiles broke his somber expression as he watched the man he'd come to consider a son forget his life, his duties, for just a moment.

Placing the mirror back in his desk, he turned to look at Fawkes, wondering if Severus had realized he'd let down all guard around the young princess.

[-]

The girl was quick, he'd give her that. Severus ran behind her, keeping up with ease and always keeping her in sight. That was, until she took a hidden path. She was a cunning little thing, he'd give her that, too. Waiting until he was comfortable and then sneaking off.

Stopping to catch his breath, he tried multiple locator spells, all of which failed. Frustration wrapped around his mind like vines, digging in until he couldn't help but yell.

He bellowed, her name sounding more like a curse than a request. "Hermione!"

"Here," she whispered quietly from just behind him. He spun with a start; she had literally been right behind him and he hadn't noticed. Oddly, that didn't anger him as it normally would.

Hermione clutched her stomach as laughter bubbled in her chest and spilled free. She sunk to the ground without an ounce of grace, howling with mirth. Tears fell from her eyes as she shook from the force of her laughter, her lungs aching from lack of oxygen.

Severus started to scowl before realizing she truly had a reason to laugh. He hadn't been on his guard at all today, and this merely proved it. He, who could always be counted upon to silently ambush students misbehaving, had been startled. Not only that, but she had also close enough to whisper in his ear.

Chuckling at himself, he offered her a hand. As she giggled, he pulled to help her up. Misjudging how slight she was, he grunted silently as she landed in his arms, pressed against his chest. He looked down at her flushed face and sparkling eyes and was mesmerized by the amusement that graced her features. He took in her heavy-lidded eyes and moist lips, and for just a moment, forgot he wasn't _only_ a wizard having a laugh with a fledgling friend.

The moment passed as quickly as it had come. He released her and took a step back, giving himself a mental shake. This was not him, not how he acted and surely not how he thought. She was his student, his princess.

"I beg your pardon, Hermione. Are you going to show me the correct path now?" he said, as he tried to reorder his whirling thoughts.

"Yes, of course." Grinning, she turned and led him down the correct path, this time walking beside him rather than running ahead. Even as she explained various creatures and plants they encountered, her mind wandered. She had seen something in his eyes for a moment. Something...she'd never seen there before. She could have sworn he looked at her lips and she nearly scoffed at herself for the thought. Even if he had, which she knew he hadn't, it didn't matter. They had only met each other, the _true_ Severus and Hermione, the night before.

So even if he had been looking at her lips and there had been something like attraction in his eyes...it was too soon anyway. Attraction and lust weren't the same, just like they weren't the same as love or any other emotion. The first two could happen at first site...but not with them. Right?

They both nearly sighed in relief as they entered the center of the maze. Dominating the clearing was a pond. Crystalline water shone in the winter sun, specks of colorful underwater life breaking the monotone, clear blue. The occasional fish swam close to the surface, stirring the pristine reflection of the surrounding area.

In a shaded nook, a table and chairs sat with waiting drinks. Various seating arrangements could be seen around the area, reminding him of a Muggle public swimming hole. In fact, a second look at the pond reminded him even more of the public pools. It was shallow on one side, allowing one to walk further into the water before it became too deep to stand. At nearly the size of two classrooms and roughly twelve-foot deep in the center, the pond was clearly bit enough to support the "beach" without being overshadowed by it.

"Well, I have to admit, I didn't expect this," he commented, surveying the area with pleasure.

"It's even better at night," said Hermione. "There are drinks on the table, if you'd like something." He walked to the table and filled a goblet with cool water. He turned back to Hermione with a pleasantry hovering on his lips, then stopped short, almost dropping his goblet.

"What on earth are you doing?" he asked as she pulled her robe off over her head.

"I'm going into the water," she replied. She stood before him in nothing more than a florescent green bikini. It was somewhat modest, he saw to his relief. Despite the modesty of the two-peice suite, he was still shocked. Rarely had he seen her without voluminous student robes, or at the very least, Muggle clothing.

"I understand that. _Why_ are you going?"

Hermione sighed and grabbed her wand. Her best friends were boys and the Weasleys had a large number of sons; she'd long since gotten used to being observed while she swam.

"The last few flowers I want to collect are in the water, on the bottom." She turned and looked at him, hands on her hips as her eyes flashed. She pressed her lips together for a minute. Surely he wasn't _that_ offended. "If you don't like it, you can start heading back. But once you see the flowers, you'll be grateful I had this suit on," she added, and without further ado, she dived in.

Despite his lack of comfort at seeing her in her swimming attire (she was his _student,_ he reminded himself sternly) he carefully placed his goblet on the table and made his way to the edge of the pond. He noted her graceful movements and admired her technique. She would swim and stop, hovering in place. She hadn't performed a Bubble charm, so he supposed she was holding her breath.

As he watched her, he wondered if he was so starved for social female contact that _this_ was the result. Because that little voice in the back of his mind was wrong. He was not attracted to her, not because of her mind, not because he'd been without female companionship and certianly not because of her body. He was not and never would be attracted to anyone in his care, he told himself harshly as he closed his eyes. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. Whatever was happening to him was going to stop right this moment. He _would_ get control of his thoughts and emotions, damn it all.

Moments later, Hermione's head broke through the calm surface, and with it, his thoughts. She set the conjured bottles on a stone shelf and then grabbed a bar and hoisted herself out with a strength he hadn't known she possessed. There were waterproof labels on the jars that read African Water Lily, Black Roses, and Lemnoi Lotus. A faint blush stained his cheeks as he read them.

Hermione cast a quick drying charm on herself before pulling her robe back on.

"These are supposed to be-" he began in a strangled voice.

"Exactly," she said, cutting him off with a satisfied smirk.

"Don't you usually have to collect them at night?"

"No. There are privacy charms in the center of this maze."

Much to his annoyance, he was unable to keep his previous vow. His thoughts wondered to a place they shouldn't at her words, and he could not stop himself from picturing what two people ensured of privacy could get up to in the middle of such a beautiful setting. The faint blush on his cheeks deepened and trailed down his neck. Turning away, he walked back to the table.

This was _not _him!

Hermione giggled as she noticed the set of his shoulders and the tension in his frame. Her best friends were males after all. "It's all right, sir, I should've kept that to myself. If you want, we can take a shortcut to the lab."

"That would probably be best," was all he said, ruthlessly smothering his thoughts.

Hermione tucked the jars in the crook of her arm, pulled out her wand, and tapped some stones in a corner of the grotto. A stone and a bush moved to reveal a stairway. She lit a torch that hung from a bracket just inside and, gesturing to Severus, disappeared from sight. Curiosity urging him on, he followed.

[-]

Let it never be said Hermione inherited her stubbornness from her father and grandfather. Agamemnon and Menelaus would never be as tenacious as their wives.

Despite knowing the basic lay of the lab, neither Leda nor Helen were able to locate Hermione's work files. Once she put her mind to changing the room around, only she knew where everything was. They searched for a while and found nothing. It wasn't until Tara warned them of Hermione's approach that they left the lab.

While Menelaus and Agamemnon felt guilty, Helen and Leda did not. When they did, they justified it: they were trying to help Hermione, after all. As the group made their way back to the library, the men had to wonder if the women even truly realized they'd not only invaded Hermione's privacy multiple times in one day, but had also entered one of the few places the young witch considered all but sacred.

Somehow, they knew the witches either didn't realize, or did and just didn't care.

It was times like these they wondered if it would be safer to tell Hermione or wait to see if she found out. Either way, she'd be angry, and rightfully so.

[-]

Hermione came through the secret door with Severus right behind her. As the door sealed behind him, he glanced around.

The lab was the size of the Potions classroom, large but still modest. A full wall was nothing but a combination of tall, wood, glass and metal store cabinets. In the corner by the main entrance was a desk with a computer on it. There was a large sink on the third wall, with shelves above it, and wood and glass cutting stations beside it. The workbenches were along the remaining wall that housed the entrance he'd just came through. A central island provided additional workspace.

The set up was Master level. Despite his shock, some part of him nodded in satisfaction. Deep within the recesses of himself, far beyond the reach of his masters and even himself, he had expected nothing less of her. Every task she set, every goal she met, was done with all of her person. Why would potion making be any different?

Her eyes followed his. She smiled as she nervously straightened her desk. She had been gifted with her own lab after showing a great liking, as well as talent. Her lessons with private tutors had begun around age nine, and to the surprise of her elders she had taken to the art with ease. It had called to her. The ingredients, the brewing process, the instruments. Despite the risk, she had devoured all knowledge put before her on the subject.

He walked around the room, silent. His hands hung by his side as he remained careful not to touch anything. The room was hers, made sentient by her magic, by her mere presence. He nodded with satisfaction as the wards around the stores - whether they were ingredients, tools or files - sent shivers up his spine. His palms tingled with the strength of raw power. She had honed this magic into something he'd rarely seen, tapping into forces most considered myth.

Unnoticed, something within him stirred, awakened. It stretched forward, yearning for more, for even the barest hint of energy. It was greedy for the challenge it had found, demanding for the salvation that may come from such a challenge. Just as quickly, it fell back into a restless sleep. Not yet...soon, but not yet.

Without speaking, she unlocked one of the cabinets to allow him visual access. She bristled as he reached forward. Her eyes narrowed as his fingers continued to near her stores. Surely he wouldn't dare?

He watched her from the corner of his eye. For now, they were not professor and student, princess and subject, nor even were they warriors in a war far larger than themselves. For now, they were merely two potion makers. He chuckled with appreciation and understanding as she bristled, clearly itching to at the very least smack his hand away.

"What's so funny, sir?" she asked tersely as she noted his smirk. It infuriated her, his arrogance. He might be her elder and senior in potions, but stripped of their titles, they were equals otherwise. What right did he have to laugh at her, when he acted just the same with _his_ stores?

"You are," he told her. The words rolled from his tongue smoothly as he faced her. His eyes crinkled with amusement as he lowered his hand. His voice was soft, filled with traces of his previous amusement and also passion for his art. He held her gaze without hesitation, staying within his own mind despite a life-long habit of doing otherwise.

"Anyone with a true love of the art of potion making would be rightfully angry for anyone going into their stores without permission. This room is truly yours, therefore it is satisfying to see one of my pupils so protective of her potion ingredients. I do not know of many who are," he added quietly. For a bare moment, his mask fell, unnoticed, as sadness overcame him. Weariness crippled his spirit as the harsh life of lies, pain and blood flashed through his mind. What these children didn't know...how foolishly naive they were. They did not know nor care that they ingredients they scowled upon could and would one day save their lives. How little they truly understood...

Her breath caught in his throat. Less than a heartbeat passed before his mask was replaced without his notice of its absence. Yet that heartbeat was an eternity for her. Her own heart called out to him. She had seen suffering, had lived it herself, yet he, Harry, and countless others would never be recognized for _their_ suffering. For the pain they endured, the tears they held at bay, the blood they shed nor the grief that strangled them. They were the unsung, the secret heroes of the world, even if they were in the forefront of the war. None would understand them...him...

Breaking the shared gaze, he turned away once more. As she again warded the cabinet, his eyes fell upon her desk. The Muggle computer was newer than the one he'd recently seen. Between his mostly Muggle-based upbringing and his time as a spy, he had spent much time following Muggle technology and advancements. Modern science was closely linked with many of the Magical arts, something he regularly spoke about with Minerva, Albus, and Filius. His colleagues understood what much of their world did not: there would eventually come a time the two worlds would not be separated. Why not begin combining the best of both, not only to advance one's art, but to ease the transition?

As he continued to stare upon the computer, he couldn't help wonder how she'd managed to make it run in a magical castle. Unable to sate his curiosity, he asked. He nearly ground his teeth at her smile-insufferable know-it all. The fact that her answer was so simple made him want to slap himself and the majority of his peers. How had they not thought of it?

"Easy. Electricity is energy. Magic is energy. The two aren't compatible because they work on different frequencies and come from different sources. Energy from coal burning has a different signature than, say, water or wind turbines. All one has to do is filter magic through a conductor, a rainbow quartz crystal in this case, and it's dampened enough that the Muggle technology will run on it."

It was times like these he had to wonder if there was something she couldn't do.

"I'll show you the project in a moment, but first I need to do something." Oblivious to his thoughts, Hermione rounded the desk as she spoke. She stood beside what looked to be a small wardrobe. She opened it, careful not to hit the wall with the door. A pole extended to hover before her, lab coats and potion robes proudly displayed. Hermione pulled out a set of white robes with yellow and silver trim on the sleeves and hems. She traced the embroidery, smiling to herself as she remembered receiving the robe. After draping them carefully over her chair, she turned back to the closet. With a frown, she removed a black robe and coat, returning the hanger to its place before closing the door.

After gently draping the robes over the first set, she began searching through her files. It didn't take long to locate the file nor page she wanted. A smug yet amused smile graced her lips as she turned to her waiting guest.

"It looks like this is your lucky day, sir."

"And why, pray tell, is that?" Severus asked, eyebrow raised.

"I use colors to code the robes for some brews. I need you to wear these robes, as they are protected against and colored for this experiment. And seeing as it's you, black would, ironically, be the best choice," she added with a cheeky grin. He looked at the robes then to her, slightly confused.

"Miss Sparta, are you sure you know what you're doing? Colors sh-" He was cut off as she whirled around and faced him, they glare on her face matching his own.

"One, do not use formalities here. This is my lab and I already told you I don't want to be addressed by any title. You agreed we would not use honorifics. I called you 'sir' in jest, as you know.

"Second, even Masters in their field can listen to the reasons behind someone else's experiment. Isn't that why the world has advanced? Because new ideas were tried, despite—or because of—their controversial nature? I invited you into my lab and hope that you will treat me as an equal work partner. This included, but is _not_ limited to, being willing to listen to my suggestions and explanations fully before stating your own opinions.

"Third, don't try to play Potions Professor here. I will gladly learn from you, but not at the expense of being treated like a first year in my own home and lab. If you can't abide by those standards, I suggest you leave," she said firmly, eyes flashing with authority. Her meaning was clear: This is my lab; it's my way or the highway, as Muggles said.

He was caught between scowling at her impudence and admiring the authority she demanded in her lab. Pausing to think on what he said, he nodded. She had made several valid points. He met her eyes and tilted his head in apology, agreeing to her terms. Without a doubt, she was the authority in this lab, not he. This was her home, and just as he would not grovel, he would also not demand sanctity he did not have. He was a guest.

Bless his mother's soul...she must be rolling in her grave at his behavior. She had taught him to treat a lady better than he had this day, especially ladies with ranks higher than his own.

"I apologize, Hermione." His words were filled his sincerity as his timbre dripped half an octave. He met her eyes, unwilling to appear a liar by not doing so. "I'm used to teaching unqualified and unappreciative students. It gives me great pride when one of my pupils turns out to enjoy working with potions. You are correct, this is your lab and I should treat you and your experiment with the respect you deserve. I apologize for underestimating you."

"Thank you. To tell you the truth, I am surprised you didn't leave in anger."

The corner of his mouth quirked, his dark eyes lightening with barely repressed mirth. "I almost did. Now, as you don't want formality in your lab, and this is _not_ Hogwarts, you'd better call me by my name...as you have been avoiding since I've arrived," he added blandly.

"Very well, then, Severus." She rolled the name around in her mind and mouth, tasting the sound of it. It...suited him. "Shall we get started?"

"Yes, but I suppose first I should change into those," he said, gesturing to the set of robes she had put out for him. He swallowed a disdainful comment, remembering her words. He would listen to her. Just because colors weren't...usual academic practice...didn't mean they couldn't useful. Right? If not, there was always the fact that they were robes made for potion work.

"Oh, yes," she mumbled distractedly. She blushed slightly, mystifying him with the involuntary action." Um-" She looked about and he followed her gaze, wondering what she was looking for. Finally she summoned the house-elf.

"Tara?"

"Yes, Miss?"

"Would you please show Sev-er, Professor Snape where he can change into work robes?"

For some reason the elf was smiling broadly, causing both humans to regard her oddly. "Of course," she said. "Come this way, sir." She took his hand and elf and wizard left with a soft _pop_.

Hermione sighed and hastily changed her own robes once she was sure he'd left. Pulling out the experiment file, she was sitting on the edge of the desk when Severus returned.

"How is it they fit so well?" he asked as he shut the door.

Hermione shrugged. "A simple Adjustment Charm. The protection spells were incorporated into the robes when we created them. For good measure, the entire family puts our own charms on our own clothing."

"So instead of buying new robes, you keep these." He glanced around the lab and then at her again, remembering using the same charms when he was younger. It occurred to him that despite her obvious wealth, she was very frugal at school to the point that her clothing was often comfortably worn. It said much about a person for them to keep comfortable, possibly "shabby" clothes over new, designer-worn attire.

It was also humbling.

Had he truly misjudged her so greatly? He watched her, his thoughts continuing to change with every word she spoke and action she performed.

"Yes. Here is the experiment file. I'll collect our tools and explain anything you don't understand," she said, going to the storage cupboards. Most of her experiments were either too volatile or too new for her to present to him. This one, however, was at a stage where another's help would be more than welcome. Harry's headaches had alluded many wizards and witches, from Poppy Pomfrey to Albus Dumbledore himself. She'd hoped to find something to ease them, if not a cure all together.

She'd had nearly half the necessary items set up when he broke the silence. He waved the file at her, not sure if he was exasperated or confused.

"Why exactly are you using these color robes? It's basically a modified potion already."

Though offended, she didn't pause in the set up as she spoke. Her eyes cut him, warning him to keep that famous sneer of his to himself.

"Despite what it looks like, that potion was made from scratch. I researched every ingredient, method, and tool myself. I created a new potion. The colors robes are used for symbolism and power. It's like always wearing black while brewing-no negative energy will affect you, but others can, whether for good or bad. I use various colors, all for their own properties. The white is purifying, yellow is for creativity, silver for neutrality and stability. Black, of course, absorbs and repels negative magic and influences. The work bench is usually black."

He was impressed. Her knowledge and creativity was inspiring him to do his own research, having dismissed color use as foolish at best many years before.

Hermione finished her preparations and started working, pupil teaching the master. Hours passed comfortably uninterrupted until a knock sounded. The sound, so out of place in the lab, made her jump. She cursed as her sudden movement caused a vial of toxic oil to tip towards the cauldron. Reflexively, Severus pulled out his wand and stopped the vial in mid-air. Sighing in relief, she plucked it from the air and set it on the bench between them. She fumed quietly as she made her way towards the door.

He shook his head. While he understood her burst of temper, and was angry himself, he also sympathized with the person knocking. To bother someone one knew crafted volatile experiments was asking for trouble. He chuckled to himself as she glanced back at him, clearly in too foul of a mood to even fake a smile.

"Yes?" she asked as she yanked the door open. Agamemnon and Menelaus stood before her. Regret and the slightest hint of fear masked their features as they took in her expression. An angry Hermione was a lethal Hermione. They'd found out when she was younger not to interrupt her work.

"It's almost three, darling," her grandfather said.

Cursing under her breath and looking at the clock, Hermione said to Severus, "Be back in a second," before shutting the door. It didn't take her long to complete her task before returning. While calmer, her temper continued to simmer as she made her way towards the shared station.

"I usually have wards up to stop interruptions, and sometimes I lose track of time, but since you're here, I kept them down. I've been known to stay in here for over twelve hours before noticing the time," she added ruefully. She broke off before she could babble, biting her tongue to keep her from grinning nervously. What had gotten into her?

"What did they want?" he asked casually.

"Nothing important," she said evasively, going back to work. But throughout the next hour, she continued to mutter. He was only able to hear one snippet: "...like I would actually forget. Honestly, I would've been fine. But no..." Then she fell silent, continuing her tirade but only mouthing the words. She finished the last stir and extinguished the flame, letting the potion cool on its own.

"What are you muttering about?" He all but held his breath as he gathered their tools to begin washing them. Would she tell him?

"Oh, nothing, Severus. Would you like to stay for dinner?" she asked, scrubbing the work bench and cutting tables by hand after putting away the remaining items. Her movements were as smooth as when she'd set up, save for the edge at the end of each action. Her hand was jerked away from a bottle, drawers and doors shut with a bit too much force.

As he kept hand-washing the tools, he shook his head as he reviewed the last hours. He'd started a new batch of the potion, which was complex despite the seemingly simple instructions. A feeling of satisfaction ran through him, not only at her accomplishments at making such a potion, but also his own contributions. He had, with her permission, made his own improvisations, scribbling notes on a spare copy of the potion instructions she'd found for him.

His words broke her from their similar thoughts. "If you'd like me to," was all he said, which she took to mean yes. Somehow her family members had already been informed of his decision and were quite satisfied with it. The two Queens and Tara had given the Kings a scolding for having interrupted Hermione's work and not trusting her to take care of herself. Wisely, the Kings reserved comment on their previous invasion of her privacy. All had been lucky the wards had not alerted her to their entrance into her lab.

No matter social station, power level, gender or whatever else, meddling, invasion of privacy and trust and disregard of implied desires of one's privacy and trust would always happen. Privacy would be disregarded "for one's own good". The only question was how far would such actions be taken?

And what if the cost was too high?

[-]

[-]

AN: Another good place to break it.


	8. Natural Selection III

**Natural Selection (III)**

They had dinner in the garden. The family asked Severus to use their given names just as Hermione had done. Conversation flowed as easily as their drinks. Within moments of the second course being served, Severus and Hermione's quiet argument became a heated debate. His low, silky voice contrasted with her raised, cultured tones. Their meals and companions were forgotten, much to the Queens' amusement and secret delight.

"Honestly," Hermione insisted, "Water Lilacs are best used with blue, or green if balance is needed without compromising the contents." Her eyes flashed as she summoned a chart she'd been given in her third year of private lessons. "Read it!"

Severus dismissed the chart with a sharp wave of his hand, uncaring. "Or you could just use green alone," he retorted. He snorted as he met her eyes. Surely she couldn't be arguing with _him_ about potions.

"No, you can't. Green is for balance, but the water needs to be represented." She leaned forward, heedless of manners. Her hands flew before her as she tried to make her point. He was such a stubborn – idiot – pigheaded – man! Ignoring the fact she'd reverted to childish taunts, even mentally, she growled. "Why won't you listen to reason?!"

"This is preposterous," he argued as he looked away. She rolled smoothly over top of his words, unwilling to be dismissed as easily as the parchment had been.

"Do I have to remind you that _you_ are the one who mentioned love potions?"

"Merely as an example! You can not-"

"Yes, you can, Severus! Red, orange, and pink would be best, not to mention the easiest, way to strengthen a love potion!"

"Or overdo it!" he snapped.

"I give up!" she exclaimed. She threw her hands in the air before tossing her napkin at him. "You can't teach without intimidating! You, _sir, _are obsessed with it!" She added. She smirked as the sarcastic use of the honorific made his eyes narrow. _Ha! Take that, _she thought.

Would it be too juvenile to stick out her tongue? Probably, she admitted grudgingly. And especially in the presence of her family members. Not that he didn't deserve it.

"How else can I get a Gryffindor to keep quiet? You are beyond annoying, you insufferable know it all! At least in your lab-"

"That's quite enough, you two!" Leda finally commanded. She shook her head and glanced around the table. The rest of her family as smiling just as widely as she was. Yet as entertaining as their argument was, it was getting out of hand. Best not let tempers flare too much.

The guilty parties muttered apologies but sent looks at each other that plainly said the debate wasn't over. The other four shared a glance before shaking their heads. Maddening, their heir and her new found, in her words, "lab assistant". Simply maddening.

A clock chimed and the Potion's Master jumped up. Ice ran down his spine as he realizing how late it was...how unaware he had been. How at _ease_ he had been. A bolt of fear clenched his mind and tore at his soul. What was it about the young woman before him that made him forget everything? Shaking his head, he pushed it all away. Now was _not_ the time. He could not afford to let anything distract him while they were in the middle of a war.

He spoke as he stood and pushed in his chair. "I apologize for leaving so abruptly, yet the Headmaster is more than likely wondering by now if I've disposed of Miss-Hermione. Good night, all, and thank you for your hospitality."

He bowed, the movement quicker than it had ought to have been. Time was of the essence now and he prayed they understood. Never waiting for their reaction, he fled the room and castle as quickly as he could. He had been gone too long, much too long. There was more at stake than rare potion ingredients and his absence could have jeopardized it all.

What had he been thinking?

[-]

She stared after him, blinking several times. What had just happened? Shaking her head, she turned to her family. Her words were quiet, filled with a sadness she couldn't understand. "I think I'll retire also. Good night," she murmured. Without looking back, she, too, fled the room.

Her chambers no longer felt like a sanctuary. All while she finished her evening's ablutions and changed she thought about the day, and as she lay down in her massive bed she continued to dwell on her feelings of unease. Something she was unable to name, something that frightened her, coiled in her heart.

"I'm sure he just had to get back to the Headmaster," she whispered to herself. She clutched a pillow to herself. The solitude the rooms had once given her were now only a sign of her isolation. The home she couldn't wait to return to just over a week ago was now a cage. A gilded cage, but a cage none the less.

A single tear slid down her cheek as she clenched her eyes shut to stifle a sob. She was not _only_ a young witch, was not _only_ a bookworm still in school, was not _only_ a scholar with a sense of adventure. She was a Princess, Heir Apparent to more land than she wished to consider, current protector and future monarch of countries she never wished to rule.

And he...he was not _only _a Master of Potions, was not _only_ a wizard, was not _only_ an academic who constantly sought new sources of information. He was a spy, a master strategist to the visible army, a teacher of present and future generations.

Their day had been, in her opinion, wonderful. They had been themselves, not their titles, not the roles cast upon them. For a day, the war had not existed, and their social statuses had been equalized while alone.

Who knew Cinderella's spell could end before midnight?

If her cage was golden, his was tarnished brass and she knew without a doubt he hated those walls as much as she did.

[-]

As she cried herself to sleep, her family retired to a room not far from their own sets of chambers. They stared at one another in silence, contemplating what they had seen. Where joyful smiles and expressions of hope had sat earlier in the day, there now rested only sadness and raw truth.

A man had fled their home to one of his masters; a woman had escaped the place of his last moments here...

Agamemnon sighed as he shook his head. He refused to think about the situation all night. They had just met each other's true personas, though their reactions showed emotions far stronger than those that came from a first true meeting. As he looked at his family, his wife and children who'd been fortunate to find loving mates, he wondered if they would find what they were searching for.

And if they did...whether they would be allowed to have it.

[-]

"How was the castle?" The words fell from chapped lips. The husky voice was laced with knowledge it should not have had, though there was no hint of it repentance or suspicion on his face.

Severus met the wizened blue eyes of his employer. His Occlumency shields tightened as a flare of rage coursed through him. Much like he had minutes before at the castle, he pushed everything away. His mask revealed nothing as he brushed ash from his robes.

Stepping away from the Floo, he answered quietly. "It was...more than I expected." He knew the old man, the man who controlled his fate as much as the despot whose brand was upon his arm, understood what his words meant.

"Are you going back tomorrow?" Albus tented his fingers and tilted his head downward, looking upon the man he considered a son. Sorrow filled him as he watched the blank mask become almost inhumane with its lack of expression. It hurt his heart to watch the weight of the war, of his charges, and of his life weigh down Severus' face. Though Severus ensured his spine became ramrod straight, with his head held high, the elder man knew the younger was ready to crumble.

Had this day of peace come at too high a price?

"If I am needed," came the bored response. Severus flicked his eyes between Albus' gesture for him to sit and the chair itself. He inclined his head, politely refusing the offer. He had nothing to report, no plans to make. This was not a social call, nor any other sort of enjoyable visit. He would not sit in the chair and pretend otherwise.

And he knew Albus Dumbledore knew that. Albus knew everything.

"How will you know if you're needed? Surely Miss Sparta won't come here." The Headmaster watched, never revealing his hand. He would sow the seeds of suggestion. His spy was too good at his job to not know what he was doing. Yet he knew the younger man wanted the seeds to bare fruit, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself.

"That is none of your concern, Albus. Now, I ask to leave, as I am not in the frame of mind to answer any further questions."

Once more, he didn't wait for a response before he left. He never saw Albus' smirk widen, his suspicions confirmed. He didn't care if the old wizard knew he enjoyed his day. He knew everything else about his life and his thoughts, after all. There was no privacy for the dour man, no life beyond his masters and what they demanded from him.

For once, there were no sounds save his own footsteps in the corridors. The winter chill seeped through each window he passed. The cold radiating from the ancient glass was nothing compared to the ice within him.

This place was a prison. His own suite, a cell. No longer could he find solace or safety in either his chambers or his lab. The war and those who participated in it had finally violated every part of his life. Anger churned his stomach. Even the fleeting peace he felt earlier had been stolen by Albus. He was not allowed a day, a single waking day, to himself.

He now understood why she hid in the library under pretext of study during the school year. She had found a place few would bother her, had found a sanctuary within their crowded hell.

For the first time in many years, he wished he could join someone in their sanctuary. Even if she was his student, his princess, even if he was conflicted with his view of her...she had given him a moment of peace. For that, he could never repay her.


	9. Deafening Silence

**Chapter Six**

**Deafening Silence**

On the first day of the orthodox calendar new year, while the rest of her classmates were still enjoying time away from school, Hermione entered the Hogwarts Potions Master's lab. Her head was held high, not with arrogance but with confidence. And possibly a bit of smugness. She had told Severus during his last visit that he would need white robes, and he outright sneered at the possibility. _He_ had told her it was mere foolishness. The man who had, at first, all but laughed at the notion of robe colors having an affect in potion making was now wearing his own set of white robes.

The gentle rustling of cloth brought her back to the present. Shaking her head, she entered the lab quietly, not wanting to risk startling him by knocking. Noticing he was brewing, she hung her cloak and looked around. The content of his lab was similar to her own, though the set up was different and his had more workspace. She spotted two doors. One she knew led to his office and the other, she could only presume, his private rooms.

"Unfortunately, I'm renewing Madam Pomfrey's stock today. I would be grateful if you would start on the modified Organ potion. I'm putting your theory to work in my potions," Severus told her without looking away from the cauldron.

She beamed at the hidden compliment, allowing a bit of her smugness to show. "So has it worked yet?"

"Yes," he replied with a sardonic smile. "Madam Pomfrey has mentioned each potion is stronger. The directions-" He waved his hand toward another workbench that was empty save for a folder and cauldron.

"The instructions are on the board? I may begin?" she mocked cheekily.

He choked on a laugh, scowling in good humor as she winked. "No, and yes. You can plainly see where the instructions are, and you must begin if you are to finish," he said in his best authoritarian voice.

She took the folder from the workbench, holding it as if it were spun glass. She read the instructions several times, unwilling to give him cause to mock her before starting the brew.

For the next four hours she was silent, except for periodically murmured incantations under her breath. When the potion was finished she automatically cleaned her workspace, and it wasn't until she was drying the last knife that she noticed his absence. A quick search of his classroom, office and private stores failed to reveal him.

Quickly realizing he was not in the public or work areas, she made her way back to the lab. Her heart lodged in her throat as she stared at the second door. Unconsciously, she straightened her robes and stood taller before knocking. The thrice rapping of her knuckles echoed in the lab, never betraying her nerves.

"Enter," came the lazy, drawled reply. Rolling her eyes at his melodramatics, she entered without hesitation.

He watched her close the door. His lips twitched as he realized she was not going to turn her back to him while securing the latch. _Smart girl_, he thought to himself. With a raised eyebrow, he waited in silence as she met his eyes.

"I was lo-" She broke off as their surroundings became apparent. While she had known these were more than likely his private chambers, the sight of a well-used sitting room knocked her off balance. Her eyes wandered around, taking in the decorations and furnishings.

"Yes, Hermione? Did you require something?" His smile widened as he met her eyes again. He was amused by her reaction to his lounge, and he wasn't trying to hide it. How could he not be? He chuckled silently as she shook her head.

"No, no. I'm finished with the potion."

"Very well. Then shall we head to lunch? Albus has so kindly reminded me you must see your other professors before term. He has also warned me to keep you from slaving over a bubbling cauldron," he added with a sardonic snort.

Hermione chuckled nervously, trying desperately not to look around. "Er, yes. Let's go, then." Without hesitation, she left the room and entered the corridor beyond the lab in record time. Severus snickered once more to himself as he followed her at a sedate pace.

The staff was happy to see her. There were cries of, "It's good to see you back, Hermione," "I hope Severus isn't working you too hard," and so on. Dumbledore chuckled and motioned for the overwhelmed girl to sit at the table. A regular table sat in the center of the hall as no students were present during this holiday. Though nervous, she took her seat in front of the smiling Headmaster, Severus at one side and several empty chairs at her other.

"Now, Miss Sparta, how has your holiday been so far?"

"Very good, Headmaster. I hope yours has been enjoyable also."

"Yes, it has," Dumbledore replied. He passed the turkey sandwiches to Hermione, silently urging her to eat.

The intimate gathering consisted of her main professors and the Headmaster, in short, only faculty members that knew of her true identity. Even Hagrid was absent, something which was uncommon for the half-giant. Her teachers, aside from Severus, were unsure of how to act. Before them sat a member of the highest-ranking magical nobility. Determined to dispel the tension, the young princess fell into easy conversation with the elderly Wizengamot Chief Warlock. Before long, quiet voices rose as individual discussions began.

"Sir, where is the rest of the staff?" Hermione asked.

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes made her wonder just what was in that goblet of his. "Away," he answered jovially. Severus hid a snort of disgust behind a cough. His employer was much too happy by half. "I suggested a holiday, since not a single student remained behind," Dumbledore replied.

"How nice for you-but then why are the rest of you here? Meaning no disrespect," she added sheepishly as she glanced around the table.

"Of course not. We all elected to stay. Though I must admit, I believe our decision was influenced by a certain ball invitation," Minerva said with a smile.

"You have finished your school work, correct? It would be a pity to have to wait until the last day due to all of your potion brewing," Dumbledore commented with another suspicious twinkle and a broad smile. The other staff members addressed their full attention to the conversation.

"Of course, sir. I had it finished before I left," Hermione replied with a smile. Her grin faltered for a moment when Severus spoke.

"That is good. Now you will write a twenty-foot essay on each ingredient you handled today." His words were without emotion as he continued cutting his food. He never looked up from his task, though she knew he was watching.

Minerva hissed as she inhaled, preparing to protest. Before she could speak, Hermione's sputtering words fell over the table like the damp winter snow.

"You-what are-it's the-" She narrowed her eyes, hand twitching as she fought the urge to hex the smug man sitting beside her. It wasn't until he looked up and drawled "Yes, Miss Sparta?" that she began to laugh.

"You horrible man! I thought you were serious!"

"I will be if you insult me again," he told her. A barely smothered grin reflecting in his eyes belied his harsh tone. As the others sat in shock at his amused expression, Hermione harrumphed.

Albus chuckled and shook his head. These two had met their match with each other, no matter what positions they held. It would be an interesting year and a half before Hermione's graduation.

The duo finished their meal quickly and silently before excusing themselves. As they made their way to the library, the professors turned to one another.

"I think it's perfect, Albus! Who better to keep him happy? None of us can brew potions at that level, or has the time," Sprout commented. Her eyes were alight with joy. It was something out of a romance novel, though she would never admit to reading such literature.

"Yes, but if it gets—"

"Don't spoil the mood, Remus. They're both happy," McGonagall chastened the werewolf, who muttered his apologies and stood to take his leave.

"But he's right, Albus," Flitwick squeaked, also standing. He glanced at his friend and former student. "This could be a disaster."

"I am well aware of that, Remus, Filius. I for one, however, am happy for them. As you know, we are all bound to silence and cannot speak to anyone outside this group about Miss Sparta's secret. Now, no more negative discussion on the subject. Regardless of what may or may not happen, the choice is theirs. If they wish to become friends, something more, or enemies, it is none of our business." Dumbledore said sternly to his employees.

He watched the two men leave and wondered what would come of the budding friendship they had all just witnessed.

[-]

The continuous "debate" about the use of colored robes in potions grew louder with each floor Hermione and Severus ascended. By the time they neared the library, they were all but shouting at one another, barely pausing to think before they retorted.

"Using black in Wolfsbane will make it stronger if combined with red and orange." These words echoed through the corridors, each one ringing with hard-won knowledge.

"Hermione, if you need to combine three colors, then you shall have to change the brewing cycle!" Exasperation all but dripped from the sharp words. Several of the portraits shuddered and fled their frames, hands pressed firmly to their ears.

"No, you won't. Colors only affect the project cycle if you don't try to harness the power of the moon. Then and only then will it affect the product," she said earnestly.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he said, his silky voice dangerously low.

"I've worked with colors almost since I started brewing. I've researched every aspect I could. You're the one who dismisses them."

He snorted and quickly strode to the Restricted Section, unwilling to dignify her words with a response.

"Severus," she said, hastily following him. Madam Pince was at a conference in Italy so there was no one to censor their loud voices. Having previously been granted permission to use the Restricted Section, Hermione walked through the open gate without restraint.

The echo of the closing gate rang through the library, an unnecessary confirmation of their isolation.

"Hermione, will you just drop it? It's fine." He continued walking, refusing to look back. His sharp tone did nothing to assuage his anger. He said nothing else, unwilling to admit to himself or anyone else that her words cut.

"No, it's not. But I will leave it alone—if you answer a question," she amended quickly. She all but clung to his robes as he navigated the maze of rows with long practiced ease. Was this quick pace revenge for her game while they were in the maze? She didn't understand the harsh edge in his voice and knew better than to ask. Something she had said had put him on edge.

He sighed. "What?"

"Why do you wear black all the time?"

"Because I can."

"But-"

"You asked your question, and I answered it."

He stopped without warning, too angry to care that she stumbled. Without pause, he turned and reached around her for a book. Failing to consider her proximity, he inadvertently pinned her to the shelf. As his longer fingers closed around the delicate tome, he moved closer still.

She watched him with baited breath. She heard rather than saw him lay the book atop another near her head. Though at a proud five-seven, she was still shorter than his lithe frame. As the unique mixture of metal, earth and smoke filled her nose, she raised her head to find his eyes.

He held her gaze. The world stood still as he stared into her honey-mocha orbs. Entranced, he raised his hand and traced the heat radiating from her face. The tingle of her magic barely registered to his mind. There was only silence, for he was deafened even to his own shallow breathing.

She acted on instinct. Nary a thought passed her mind as she turned her head with aching slowness and brushed her lips upon his palm. The feel of his scarred flesh against her lips made a gasp catch in her throat. A single beat of her heart passed yet it was enough for his heated skin to sear her own.

"A perfect contrast," she whispered as she met his eyes once more. Her words barely clung to the air used to breathe them, yet they sounded like a scream to his ears.

His own voice sounded foreign to him as he continued to hold her gaze. "We should get back to work," he told her. He wasn't sure why he said such a thing, and when a hint of sadness darkened her lovely eyes, he knew he should have kept silent.

She nodded in agreement and broke the spell by looking away. As he stepped back, she turned and all but fled from the library.

[-]

[-]

AN: I know it's not proper grammar to capitalize "master" in Potions master, but if you've been reading HP fics for any length of time you've noticed that HP authors have their own "rules". Potion(s) is not always spelt with an "s". Lowercase "m" for master denotes either someone who is not a true Master, they have not gone through apprenticeship and/or do not have other qualifications to be considered a Master. Therefore, Severus is a Potions Master since he has experience and has gone through an apprenticeship (in my story anyway).


	10. The Roles They Play

**Chapter Seven**

**The Roles They Play**

On the eighth of January, Hogwarts accepted its students back for the rest of term. In contrast with the holiday, the welcome back feast was nearly deafening with the roar of adolescent voices. Many of the students ignored the threatening resumption of their classes the next day as they merrily discussed their holiday.

Hermione turned her gaze to the staff table without thought. Most of them nodded politely when they noticed her, an acknowledgment she returned in kind. A curtain of silky black hair hid Severus' face from view, yet she knew his obsidian eyes were upon her.

They had worked beside one another all week. The incident in the library hung between them, unspoken yet acknowledged. The usually self-assured witch and wizard allowed their insecurities to choke them. They kept silent, refusing to break the fragile truce that had been created. Fear of the other's departure further kept them mute.

Their silence on personal matters only grew, though they spoke often. Many times over the week their hands or bodies had brushed. Only once had they purposely crossed the unseen line, a line drawn not only by etiquette and propriety but also their silent agreement. The potion timer had saved them from commenting, much to their shared relief.

Each time she Flooed to and from his office via Minerva's, the tension had continued to mount. He had, unnoticed by her, almost reached for her the night before. As she called out her destination in the Floo, eyes closed to protect them from the powder, his hand had risen to restrain her. Something within him had tried to keep her beside him, had told him that it was folly for her leave. He had smothered that voice or instinct, whatever it had been, with a drink and vial of Dreamless Sleep.

Somehow, even Tom Riddle knew not to summon his servant the previous night. For the first time in many years, Severus slept through the entire night without a single remembered dream. It wasn't until dawn that he woke, mind hazy from combining alcohol with the sedative. Had the students not returned that day Severus would have almost called the day pleasant.

The Potions Master was pulled from his memories as the Headmaster rose to end the feast. A hush fell as all eyes turned to the elderly wizard.

"Now that we are all full of good food, it is time for rest. Prefects, please do remember your patrols. I bid you all a good night." As the sentiment was returned, the aging man made his way towards the side door and left the Hall.

Conversations rose as the students began to leave. Professors shared long-suffering glances, looked upon the plates filled with remnants of food and sighed. One of these days they would make Albus wait until the meal was truly finished before dismissing the students.

"Come on, 'Mione," Ron persisted when Hermione lingered, watching the staff door.

Annoyance burned her throat as his sweaty hand curled around her wrist. As he pulled her arm towards him, she barely restrained the urge to hex him in retaliation. She growled inaudibly before snapping. Her words were harsh to her own ears, ground out through a flood of anger. Staying calm while being rushed had never been her forte, whatever her friends might think. "Okay Ron, I heard you! Let's go!"

Harry gave her a sidelong glance. Curiosity mixed with worry before he shrugged at Ron's look of confusion. She would tell them in her own time if she wanted to. Neither he nor the other residents of Grimmauld Place knew anything of Hermione's holiday, but it was clear something had annoyed her. Letters had been sent and gifts exchanged through the Headmaster for which they had thanked each other on the train.

Despite the tension between them, Ron and Hermione patrolled the halls as instructed. They took occasional points off any House as needed before turning to the tower. The common room was crowded and nearly as deafening as the Great Hall had been. They parted ways without a word as the portal hole swung shut behind them.

When she had to see him again at three in the morning, at Minerva's behest no less, she was less then pleased. They quickly sent the rowdy students to bed and she returned to her own.

Why had she been pleased at the start of term again?

[-]

The first week of classes was hectic and stressful for staff and student alike. As Hermione entered the lab, Severus became aware of just how strung out both their nerves were. The chaotic dinner hours previous had done nothing to dispell their stress. When she slammed the heavy door with enough force to jar his teeth, he bit back a retort. Whatever had set her on edge was not something he was willing to risk life, limb, or office over.

"Anything wrong?" he drawled. His eyes remained focused on the parchment he was grading. The red ink had covered the scroll to such a degree very little of the original black words could be seen.

"No," she replied tersely. So foul was her mood that she threw herself into the straight-back chair before his desk rather than sit properly. She scowled as she glanced around the office, not at all pleased at having to meet in it rather than the lab.

"I trust you have finished your homework?" He flicked his eyes to her as he spoke smoothly. The words rolled from his tongue without a hint of reproach. Caught off guard, the young woman began to stammer. Years of habit made her lower her eyes, and with them her head, to avoid his knowing gaze.

"Well, no-but it's-that is, to-"

With a sigh, Severus placed his quill within the holder. He folded his hands atop the desk and gave her his undivided attention. As she started to fidget, he raised an eyebrow.

"What do you need help with?"

"I don't need help with anything," he told her patiently. "I can finish these-" he gestured to the multitude of scrolls, "-whenever I please. I have no experiments brewing at the moment, nor have I started any new formula." He paused as he watched her face fall in dismay.

"Now, considering the fact that you've yet to make a complete, intelligent sentence and refuse to meet my gaze, I can only discern that you have not, in fact, completed your school work. As a professor, I find this vexing, but you are of age so I will not lecture you about your work. As an academic, someone who has worked beside you for a fortnight, I find this troublesome. It is not like you to leave any task undone. I can only summarize from your poor attempt to change the subject, that it is my essay you have yet to finish. Am I correct?"

She scowled once more as she raised her head. She met his glittering black orbs defiantly. "Why should it matter if I have yet to finish my work? It is not due until the beginning of the next class, and even if I have not finished yet, it is not your concern, nor anyone else's save my own. And while we're on the subject," she added as she narrowed her eyes. "You purposely set that specific topic to spite me."

The corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly. He fixed his features in what he hoped was an offended expression. "I would never do such a thing, my Lady." He bowed slightly over the desk. Without hesitation, he mocked the gesture and she with it, knowing from the past few weeks she would find no insult in his actions.

"Fine, then why did you set the topic as the harvesting of the same three flowers I collected in the maze?" She crossed her arms as he met her eyes once again. Her words became a challenge between them as they stared at one another.

"While it is not my usual conduct to disclose my reasoning to students, I will humor you. Despite what you may think, I assigned the specific topic because information is scarce. And your class has misbehaved this week," he added with a smirk. Without another word, he stood.

"You said there was work for me to do?" she asked quietly as she followed him. She stood in the doorway leading to his private chambers. A few seconds of hesitation kept her within the threshold before she crossed it.

He lifted a stack of scrolls from a far table as she set her items in a chair close to the door. Though he wouldn't comment, his approval at her blue robes was clear. With a sardonic smirk, he handed her the stack.

"I said there was no need for your assistance," he reminded her silkily, "but since you insist, here is a stack of first year essays. I believe you can...adequately grade them, seeing as you have, at one point or another, written on the same subjects yourself."

With a sigh, she clutched the scrolls to herself and made her way to the lab. Taking over one of the bare workbenches, she stacked the scrolls. She smiled in thanks as he handed her a quill and bottle of red ink before turning to the first essay.

Other than the various comments on what they were reading, they worked in silence. A few hours after they had begun, Hermione finished the last essay she had been allotted. The expression on her face could only be called one of disgusted horror. Having finished his own pile of what many would consider kindling, he watched her with amusement.

"May I ask what is wrong?"

"This. It's the worst piece of tripe I've ever had the unfortunate experience of looking at!" she told him while waving the offending parchment in the air.

Plucking the scroll from her fingers, he scanned it before promptly slashing a large red 'X' through it. He refused to waste another moment looking upon it, a decision that was not his normal behavior.

Handing over the rest of her stack, Hermione stood. She twisted from side to side and began to stretch. Once the parchments were stacked for return to their owners, he turned to meet the startling sight before him. He noticed she seemed to feel comfortable enough around him to do toe-touches followed by a back-bend, hands touching the floor. Idly, he wondered just how flexible she was. His eyes traced the curves she made without a thought.

The feel of ice spreading through his left forearm pulled his attention from the contortions before him. Agony tore through the branded nerves as the effected muscles spasmed. A voice hotter than the fires of Hades and colder than absolute zero tore through his subconscious. The compulsion to leave the castle was so great he nearly doubled over from the onslaught.

Hermione straightened as his hiss of pain met her ears. "Go-I'll tell the Headmaster," she said before he could speak.

Her eyes held nothing but calm authority and this is what gave him the knowledge she would do as she said. With a silent nod, he stalked into his chambers and slammed the sitting room door behind him. The walls shook with the force of his pain and rage. Bottles rattled dangerously on their shelves, a warning to any who heard.

Unnerved, she fished the charmed Galleon from her pocket. _SS-summoned_, she sent. She knew the Headmaster would understand her brief message. An almost instantaneous response from the elderly wizard caused the coin to warm in her palm.

_Very well. Finish what you're doing and leave quickly. There is nothing more you can do_.

Though the situation was serious, she knew couldn't leave until the Potion Master had done so as well. Returning the Galleon to its normal location, she remained in place.

The sitting room door flew open and crashed into the wall once more. Severus straightened his heavy velvet robes, clutching the wrapped mask in his hand. His face was expressionless, void of any and all emotion. Where his eyes had previously been lit with humor, they were now as cold as the brand on his arm.

"I've told the Headmaster. Is there anything you need me to do?" she asked quietly. Her voice never wavered or betrayed the feeling of uselessness that ran through her.

He paused in his thoughts and slowly lifted his head to meet her eyes. He stared for what felt like an eternity, searching for something neither of them could name. Finding nothing, he shook his head. His smooth timbre was as emotionless as his face and seemed nearly as dead as his eyes. The silky tones that normally accompanied his words were absent.

"No, there is not. Go back to your tower."

She scrambled to retrieve her things as he quickly strode from the lab. She followed him without a word. Under normal circumstances, she knew he would be calling her foolish, yet this was not a normal circumstance. They exited the castle through a secret door just down the hall from his office and walked through the shadowy grounds to the gates.

Severus unwarded the golden gates and began to slip through them as she spoke. His pause lasted less than a second, yet in the cold Scottish winter, it was as obvious as their breath.

"Be careful, Severus. I'll wait for you."

Her words hung between them, a promise, affirmation, and prayer at once. Their eyes met as he closed the gates, the metal a physical reminder of all that stood between their budding friendship.

"Go inside, Miss Granger." His gruff words were quiet, so quiet in fact that she almost mistook them for a plea. She watched as he Disapparated, never waiting to see if she followed his order.

Reluctantly, Hermione trekked through the dense snow. As she entered the castle the same way she had left, she felt a shiver go down her spine. Something told her this summons would change everything. Impulsively, she slipped inside his office and made her way to the warm sitting room. Curling in a chair before the fire, she stared blindly at the flames.

Never before had her thoughts been so consumed for the warrior which had just left her presence.

She never noticed the silent prayer which fell from her lips as the flames danced in the grate. A plea for his safe return, for him to be spared further pain, became her mute mantra as the hours passed.


	11. Summons

**Chapter Eight**

**Summons**

His mind was clear of all thought, his heart empty of all emotion as his boots sunk into fresh snow. The frigid air stirred around him, burning his ears as it lifted his locks. Pulling the thick velvet hood forward, he strode confidently towards the only cave within sight. As he secured his mask, magic swirled around him and settled in his Dark Mark. The steady thud of his heart echoed in his ears as he crossed the wards.

Refusing to acknowledge those who guarded the cave entrance, he kept his eyes firmly ahead as walls fell and rose within his mind. The parts of himself he had long ago embraced and honed to become a weapon of darkness, now used to fight the same evil which gave it life, rose to the fore. Though the damp cave around him remained the same, his perception began to change.

When the scant light of his wand gave way to the almost blinding light of his destination, he sipped the air. Sheathing his wand, he crossed the threshold of shadow to stand before his Master.

The steady dripping of melting snow became the tempo of his heart and lungs. He waited with baited breath for the hissed caress of his name. The command to step forward wrapped around him, pulling him like an incessant lover. He sunk to a knee before the glowing throne, eyes lowered in submission as he bowed his head. Neck exposed, he whispered but one reverent word.

"Master."

"Rise, my loyal servant. Tell me of Dumbledore."

Severus rose slowly, his natural grace displayed in the effortless ascent. He met the ruby eyes of the man which held his soul. Their minds brushed and he lowered his shields. A featherlight caress brushed over his mind before gently searching through his memories. Like a parent wary of waking a sleeping child, the mind which wove through his own was as gentle as the snowflakes which fell outside their dwelling.

Tension drained from his as the foreign mind pulsed. Satisfaction coiled around his heart as the smallest of smiles played upon his Lord's pearl-white lips.

"He is growing weak, Sire. Optimism does not come as easy to him as it used to," he uttered silkily. Almost lazily, he allowed the words to fall from his lips as he continued to hold the gaze of the wizard before him.

"Yes, very good. What of Potter?" The disdain which clung to the one name made it a curse rather than an identification.

A sneer turned his thin lips upward. He narrowed his eyes as he thought of the brat which had caused such trouble for his Lord. "He is still blind and believes he has a chance to defeat you. If we are lucky, my Lord, he may one day save you time and trouble by exterminating himself within my class."

A brittle chuckle rent the icy air as glowing crimson eyes narrowed in amusement. "How I would enjoy such irony, my son. Is the Mudblood girl still helping him?"

"No, Master, she has stopped helping the others in class."

A contemplative silence fell between them as Lord Voldemort looked away. Much like his servant, his face remained void of emotion. He drummed his long, skeletal fingers on the gilded armrest. The quietest of hums escaped his barely parted lips as he allowed his mind to wonder.

"A good thing," came the conclusive answer. With a nod, he turned to his spy. He raised a scaly, hairless eyebrow as he waited for a response.

"Indeed, Sire."

A forked tongue pierced the air, tasting the emotions which coated the air. Excitement and anticipation coated his palate, pulling a chuckle from him. "Join the circle, my servant. We shall have some fun tonight."

Sorrow and annoyance to the meddlesome fool whom he had just left filled Severus' chest and burned his throat. "My Lord, I regretfully can not stay-"

"I am well aware of your obligations, Severus," hissed the Dark Lord. "You shall be one of the first-unless you have something better to do?" A dangerous tone clung to his words. His lisp was absent as he met the obsidian eyes.

"No, of course not. Thank you, my Lord," Severus murmured. Sincerity all but shone in his eyes as he felt the cool mind of the reptilian wizard touch his own once more. He bowed in thanks, baring his neck once more. The stench of death mixed with the earthy, damp scent of the cave and rolled off the powerful wizard in waves. It was a scent the younger man took comfort in, knowing his Lord was safe and enjoying himself.

"Lucius, you may start. And I warn you: do not kill her as you did the last one."

"Of course not, Sire." Self-assurance dripped from the aristocrat's tongue as a Muggle teenager was dragged into the room. He leered as his old school friend joined his side. This night wouldbe entertaining for both of them.

He knew without a doubt her red hair and emerald eyes were calling at his old friend. Her appearance was a siren's song to the Potions Master and the pureblood knew how to make the most of it.


	12. Arrival

**Chapter Nine**

**Arrival**

It wasn't until he left the desolate, icy cave and stood inside the golden gates of Hogwarts that he allowed his mind to shift. The fawning, sadistic Death Eater he had once been fell away as sure as he pulled the hated mask from his face. He pushed the monster into the recesses of his mind. A shiver ran through him as a chill colder than the winter air radiated from his heart.

Severus ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair as he slowly made his way towards the ancient castle. His mind swirled with all he had seen and done within the past hour. Bile rose in his throat as he his throbbed in time with his heart. The frightened, hopeful emerald eyes stared at him with accusation. He had failed to save her, and in fact, had been an instrument in her demise.

As he entered the warm castle and hid within his chambers, he dropped the heavy velvet cloak to the floor. His wand arm burned with agony yet he paid it little mind. She had fought until the very end, had begged him with and without words to save her. A modified Stupefy had been aimed at her by a younger Death Eater and had missed by several inches. The spell had collided with his arm in a painful flash of light.

The incompetent fool had made the injury worse by, after being instructed by the Dark Lord, to inspect his arm. The manhandling of his arm had been so great he'd cast the Cruciatus before their Master had the chance to do so. The reptilian wizard had dismissed his dark-eyed spy as he too applied the torturous Unforgivable to the clumsy wizard.

Taking a shuddering breath, Severus shook his head as he entered his chambers. A shiver of relief ran through him as he carefully removed the waterlogged robes. He felt the last remnants of the vile person he had once been seal within the black box deep in his mind. Free from the hideous presence of the masquerading wizard who claimed himself Lord, he allowed his thoughts to flow free. Bile rose in his throat once more as he struggled to push the night's events below the memories of another mundane school day.

It wasn't until he had changed into dry clothes and healed his arm that he recognized foreign magic within his suite. At two in the morning, after a summons, even Albus Dumbledore himself would leave the Potions Master to his own devices. His smooth, ebony wand slid from his sleeve effortlessly as he soundlessly made his way to the sitting room. He peered into a high-backed chair, his breath catching at the sight of familiar blue robes and chestnut curls.

His nearly shattered nerves threatened to break as his own loud voice thundered in his ears. His words, filled with equal parts reproach, anger and horror tore through the silent air. The force of his bellow stung his throat as the name, spoken before he could form the thought within his mind to speak, tore free.

"Hermione!"

[-]

[-]

AN: Please review. StorytellerLore has agreed to beta-so we'll see how that works out. I'll repost chapters as they are edited.


	13. Explanations

**Chapter Ten**

**Explanations**

Adrenaline coursed through her dilated veins as primordial fear sparked deep within her brain. In the span of an accelerated heartbeat, her hairs stood on edge as her mocha eyes snapped open. Her gaze, nearly over-focused by the intensity of the animalistic fight-or-flight response, met glittering black orbs as she sat upright.

Pressing a hand to her chest, she swallowed as he held her gaze. Chaotic thoughts ran through her mind as she tried to remember what had happened. That's right...he'd been summoned. Horror ran through her as she realized she'd fallen asleep. Wrenched from her thoughts, she blinked and refocused her eyes as she heard him speak.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" he hissed. His eyes narrowed further as an unnoticed tremor ran through his lengthy frame. His hand twitched ever so slightly as he barely restrained the instinct to draw his wand. Rational thought fled him as, like her, his heart pounded furiously in his chest. The knowledge that he had nearly hurt her, _killed her!_, because she insisted on putting herself in such _foolish_ positions made him want to wrap his hands around her slender neck.

"I told you I'd wait. I wanted to be sure you were all right," she murmured. The man before her was not the wizard she had come to consider a friend. For all his annoyance at her, never before had his eyes shone with such cold fury. Self-disgust tightened her throat as her stomach churned with fear.

He hissed quietly as he leant forward. Renewed ire tore through him, stoking his shame all the more, as she instinctively pressed further into the chair. "Why are you in my _chambers_, girl?" came the nearly silent question. "Why my rooms rather than my lab or office?"

Swallowing past the lump which choked her, she stammered as he gripped the arms of the confining furnatire. "I-I d-didn't think you wou-ld go in th-there."

Clenching he jaw, he swung away from her as a snarl peeled itself from his lips. He paced without thought. Each stride aggravated him further as he strode from wall to wall. He knew she had meant to harm, had only been concerned for him—it was as clear as the Dark Mark on his forearm. Yet she had invaded his private space in his absence, had made herself at home in her rooms in a way she wouldn't when he was present.

She watched him. He looked like a caged animal denied it's meal. She whispered as she slowly uncurled. Her muscles clenched as she prepared to try and out-run him if need be. "I-I'll just...go. Go-good ni-ght."

He faced her once more, seeking the eyes which had given him solace in the past weeks. No matter his confliction, nor the upset at her invasion of his sanctuary, he couldn't keep hold of his anger. The icy, lethal emotion slipped from him, releasing his heart and mind from it's strangling coils.

The young woman before him, so strong in mind as in magic and body, appeared hunted. He shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment to clear his thoughts. The night's events escaped their box and he ruthlessly pushed them down once more. He had seen the look upon her face, the stark primal terror glowing in the depths of her eyes too many times to count. First as a child, then as a teen...and finally as an adult. So often had it stared back at him, both from others and from his own reflection, but never would it lose the power to shock him. To ground him.

"Please...stay..." He found her gaze once more, silently begging for her to listen, to give him a chance to explain.

"I shouldn't be here," she whispered as she looked away. She stared with blind eyes at the wall, unwilling to meet the eyes which had condemned her moments before.

"I...I apologize, Hermione. I shouldn't have lashed out at you. Stay, please. I only need a moment." Without waiting for her response, he quickly retreated to his bedchamber. In the minutes that passed, the she sat back in the chair once more. Her attention turned to the glowing embers in the hearth as she turned inward, searching for the stability she knew she possessed. If nothing else, this night would remind her to respect his space and unspoken wishes more so than she had been.

Severus watched from from the bedchamber for nearly a minute before moving to take a seat near her. Only once she turned the chair to face him did he speak. "Now, will you tell me why you returned _here_ rather than your Tower as I instructed?" His words were quiet, carefully void of his previous anger, his tone even despite the emotions which threatened the careful organization of his Occluded mind.

"You said to go inside," she returned cheekily without thought. She tilted her head, looking at him as if she didn't understand how he could forget such a thing.

"And before that, I said to go to Gryffindor tower," he pressed, amused and relieved by the spark of life which had eclipsed her previous fear.

She leaned forward defiantly, a silent dare for him to deny her observations. "And do what? Let you sit here in misery when you got back? I may not be a Legilimens, but I know you're upset, just as I know you had a headache when you came back. The stiffness in your neck and shoulders gave you away. Are you all right?" she added in a softer tone as he sank into the couch. She watched his grasp loosen on his wand as he rubbed his left arm.

"Yes, I'm fine," he replied quickly. He silenced her with a glare before she could protest. "You, however, are one the stupidest witches I have ever met, Hermione. I nearly cursed you!"

"Well, you didn't. And you're not fine. Want to talk about it?" She moved to sit beside him, ignoring the warning scowl he sent her.

The short, dry laugh which escaped him sounded foreign to his own ears. "No, I do not. What do you think you're doing?" he snapped as she began kneading the knotted muscles of his neck and shoulders. His hand wrapped around her wrist without though as he tensed at the unfamiliar contact.

She pulled her wrist free and returned her hand to it's previous place without hesitation. She spoke confidently, knowing he would stop her if he truly wished. "You were about to rub your neck raw. Don't worry, it's a one-time offer." Somehow she managed to get him to turn so she could reach his neck properly.

It took several minutes for the instinctive coiling of his long frame to loosen. The primal wariness of contact, born from childhood and exaggerated by adulthood, faded into confusion and...contentment. A soundless rumble vibrated through his chest as her skilled motions drew tension from him. Like a parched walker in the desert, her hands seemed to swallow the lingering pain. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to breath deeply. It wasn't a _bad_ feeling by any means...and despite the little voice in the back of his head warning him of the threat she presented, he couldn't bring himself to pull away.

It was an...experiment.

At least, that's how she interpreted his acceptance. She'd been serious in her offer. Ok, maybe it wasn't an _offer,_ per se, she'd been a bit..._pushy_, if she told herself the truth_._ She hadn't expected him to allow her to actually massage his neck. Smiling ruefully to herself, she shook her head. _Lesson learned, _she thought. She pushed and prodded his neck muscles around with her thumbs, her other fingers resting gently on his shoulders. The warmth of the strong, lithe musculature under her hands seeped into her palms and fingers. Suddenly aware of smooth tissue under his shirt, she allowed her hands to still.

Awareness of nothing but the moment, they sat in silence, the crackling of the sconces and hearth the only sound accompanying their relaxed breaths. Eventually, her hands slid like water from his shoulders and seemed to pool in her lap. Their chests rose in tandem as an unquestioned warmth danced over their flesh, a mockery of the past minutes.

He whispered ever so softly, barely glancing at her from under black lashes. "Thank you." The words hung between them, no explanation necessary. When she offered a tentative smile in return, he dipped his head and met her eyes. "You'd best return to your rooms."

She nodded and glanced at the mantle clock, not commenting on the change in his tone. The calm which had descended around them fractured at his statement and broke entirely at her reply. "It's after four." She turned back to him, a hint of question in her voice.

"You took an extra shift for patrol," he improvised. "It's not unusual for Peeves to cause trouble in lower levels of the castle this late at night." He stood, never pausing to assess the sudden urge for her absence.

She rose without a word and gathered her things. She looked at him, _through _him, before donning a Disillusion spell leaving as silently as he'd arrived. Despite himself, he couldn't help but be impressed by, and respectful of, the mastery of her stealth.


	14. Pendulum

**Chapter Eleven**

**Pendulum**

The morning's meal saw both the Potions Master and princess subdued, lost in their own thoughts. A somber Severus had reported to a twinkling (infuriating man) Albus before retiring for the night. Nightmares were unrelenting for the spy. He woke just after dawn, gasping for air as sweat plastered his hair to his head. Horrifying images of Hermione's face and the previous night's "entertainment" coursed through his mind as his heart had pounded painfully in his heaving chest. He'd stood in the scalding, early morning shower, as icy shivers racked his exhausted frame.

There were many hours of tossing and turning before Hermione had acknowledged the futility of trying to force sleep. Worry for the spy and man she'd come to consider a friend had plagued her well into the bright beginning of the day. Even as she cast furtive glances at the dark wizard down the table, she couldn't help but continue to worry. He looked...soul weary.

Her thoughts were distracted from the professor as a familiar owl glided elegantly into the Hall. As regal as the woman it sat before, it allowed her to untie the package before accepting a scrap of sausage. The young witch gave an uncharacteristic squeak of excitement as realization dawned. Gasping hasty salutations, she ran from the Hall. The owl followed calmly, mindful of its instructions.

Several people turned to the Headmaster in question, only to sigh as he twinkled and chuckled in amusement.

[-]

The spontaneous yet somehow calculating decision to hide with her mail in the Potions Master's lab barely fazed the witch. Excitement thrummed through her. After setting the box reverently on a clean workbench, she reversed the spells and waited with childlike eagerness for it to finish resizing. String and paper went flying as she tore into the plain wrappings. Holding her breath, she pulled back the flaps of the box and hissed in satisfaction. A quick scan of the contents revealed a second set of work robes laying folded under neatly stacked project files from her own lab. Only once she reached for the first folder did she see the parchment sitting atop the pile.

_Hermione,_

_Hello, darling. I do hope your week has been a good one. We all thought you might want to continue these projects while you are working with Severus. I found these still on your desk. In the middle of your robes I...well, forgive a mother's curiosity and presumption, but I thought it might be useful._

_If possible, I'd like you to come home tomorrow. A few things need to be discussed. Albus will help with the arrangements. Keep up with your work and stay close to Harry, Ron, Ginny, or Severus at all times. We miss you._

_Love, Mum_

Impatiently, but with the utmost care, she set the files aside and folded back the robes to reveal a plain vial. Holding it to the light, she squealed in renewed excitement and began jumping around.

It wasn't until she'd began calming and trying to find her breath that Severus entered. He raised an eyebrow as the door shut behind him. Drawling lazily, he appraised her and the contents of the box.

"I do hope you have a good reason for coming to my lab—without me, might I add—and for acting so childish."

"Killjoy," Hermione scolded. "Of course I do. It's my potion! We've completed it! I left a batch to set for a week, with strict instructions to everyone at home not to touch it until the time was up, not even if it exploded...which they wouldn't have known about until my wards were lowered. It just needs refining," she said, beaming proudly.

"That's the detection potion? The one that required the pond flowers?" he asked with a knowing, sly smirk.

"Yes. Oh, I can't believe it! Thank you for helping me, Severus!" She passed the vial to him as her smile continued to grow. Her excitement, the pure, almost childlike excitement which radiated from her was infectious. He returned her smile with a small one of his own.

"You did all of the work, Hermione," he corrected gently. "Shall we tell the Headmaster about this?"

"Later," came the dismissive reply. "My parents also sent the notes for my other projects that were sitting on my desk." She watched with approval, and not with a little amusement, as he placed the completed potion in a desk drawer under lock, key and spells. Without a moment's hesitation, she handed him the Muggle notebooks and folders.

"Hermione, why exactly are you making these potions?" he asked, skimming through her notes. His eyebrow rose as he processed what he was seeing.

"Because we need them," she told him frankly. She shrugged, understanding the question for what it was. "I may be a princess but I also have time to work on projects like this." Her words were void of pride as he met her eyes for several moments.

Returning his gaze to the papers in his hand, he shook his head in disbelief. _Have time_ did not describe the painstaking hours, months, possibly _years_, which had went into her work. Never had truer words been spoken when one called Hermione Sparta 'the brightest witch of her age'.

"Detection, energizer, regenerative...these are all from scratch!" he murmured with appreciation. The academic within him all but crowed at the thought of truly examining her creations. Deep within the very core of his spirit, an unnamed part of him shuddered with _something_ as he began to grasp the true intelligence of the young woman before him. "This one has over twenty different ingredients in it, and that's just where I stopped. The abbreviation DS- what does it mean?"

"Death Stopper."

"Excuse me?" He looked at her incredulously, not sure if she was mocking him or not.

"You heard me. It's called Death Stopper," she repeated as he flipped through the long, alphabetized list of ingredients.

His smoldering eyes met her collected ones as he shook the papers. "I had thought you would have more common sense than to use such illegal items. Unicorn's blood, hair of a Threshold, Drag—just how do you plan on obtaining these forbidden and _deadly_ ingredients?" he hissed with narrowed eyes**.**

Hermione snatched the file back with an indignant scowl. "Thank you, but I am well aware of exactly how these ingredients are classified. I've checked with Ministry representatives, and have been assured I can use them. As for obtaining the ingredients, the Ministry supply me those which are are Class C or higher, and I can buy the others. I have special permission to obtain those you've just named. Two can be collected here, at Hogwarts, and I can get the third from Charlie Weasley, whom I trust," she explained with a calm she did not feel. She began rummaging through the box once more, muttering under her breath.

"And you plan to brew the potions here?" he questioned softly after a long silence.

"At school, yes. Here in your lab, no. The Room of Requirement will give me my lab, and enough ingredients to get along with." Her fingers ran over the silky owl feathers that, in all the excitement, had been forgotten. With her free hand, she closed the box and watched with satisfaction as it automatically minimized. Magic couldn't solve everything—but it _was_ useful.

"Don't be ridiculous," he told her stiffly. "You might as well brew them here." He cleared his throat as she faced him once more, brow raised as his had previously been. "I'd like to be present when you do, if I may."

"Thank you, and of course you may. But the potions have to be brewed by a female," she warned.

Smoothing the excitement that continued to bubble within her despite her irritation at his patronizing, she gathered the box and calmly made her way to the fireplace. With a nod of thanks, she allowed him to drop the Floo powder into the grate before stepping into the hearth and calling her destination. Within a few swirls in the emerald vortex, she stood within a slightly smaller fireplace.

A not-so-silent huff drew Minerva's attention from her grading. Lifting her head, she barely blinked at seeing the princess standing unannounced in her hearth.

"What is it, Miss Granger?"

"Professor Snape," was all Hermione said as she swept out of the classroom on her way to the Gryffindor common room. Bemused, the Transfiguration Mistress stared behind her favored student.

[-]

The common room was nearly deserted.

_Unfortunately, "nearly" doesn't mean entirely, _she thought ruefully as "her" boys rushed towards her, child-like enthusiasm covering their faces.

"What's in the box?"

"Who's it from?"

"Can I see?"

She twisted and all but danced around them, back turned to protect her box from their grasping hands. "I'm not telling. Or showing. Now, go away!"

"Herm!" Ron yelled as she raced for the stairwell. Without thought, he tried to follow her. The klaxon-like alarm sounded without warning and the carpeted steps became a smooth slide, barring him from further access.

Feeling as if his cheeks would split from laughing, Harry pressed a hand to his mouth in a vain attempt to calm his amusement. The sight of Ron lying on the common room floor at the base of the girls' stairs, legs flailing in the air and arms pinned beneath him, was too much to bear. The other occupants of the room joined Harry in a laugh at Ron's expense.

"Okay, Ron?" Harry asked between snickers as he offered a hand to the scarlet-faced teen.

"Fine," Ron muttered, brushing off the seat of his pants. "Whadda you think's in the box?"

"No clue," Harry said, shoulders still trembling with amusement. Shaking his head, Ron shouldered his wounded pride and climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory two at a time.

Minutes later, the box stowed safe in her trunk, she bound down the stairs, all but skipped across to the portrait hole, neatly avoiding questions, and walked to the Headmaster's office. After producing the name of the appropriate sweet of the day, she found herself sitting in a comfortable chair across from Dumbledore's desk.

"What can I do for you today?" he inquired mildly.

"I received a note from my mother-" Hermione began.

An aged hand raised as blue eyes flashed for the barest second with the silent command for silence. Without a word, he turned to the portraits of the previous Headmistresses and Headmasters, looking upon them as he had her. Just as silently, they turned and left, some with visible reluctance, yet none protested. It wasn't until he waved a hand at the door and a shimmer engulfed the walls that he nodded for her to continue.

"She would like me to go home tomorrow," she continued as if never interrupted. "There are things to discuss. Oh," she added with a slightly annoyed tone, "and that I'm to stay near Harry, Ron, Ginny or Severus at all times." Her lips twisted into a grimace at the thought of being chaperoned by fellow students.

Making a tent with his fingers, the elder wizard leant back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. "If that is true..." he mused, more to himself than Hermione.

"Sir?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Sparta, I was thinking aloud. I shall make the arrangements for you tonight."

"Thank you," she said, standing. With another wave of his hand, Albus released the wards on the office. After returning the polite nod with one of his own, Hermione left. He hummed softly to himself as he regarded the fact that his office, seldom so silent, was empty save for himself and Fawkes. Without another moment's hesitation, he pulled out a clean sheet of parchment and began to write.

[-]

Black eyes stared blindly at the thick door that separated the lab and office. It would've been prudent to choose his words more carefully, he decided. Frowning, he shook his head as something within him shifted with unease at his attitude. She would have been, without a doubt, granted permission to brew whatever potions with whatever ingredients she wished by whomever she had to obtain such permission from. She wasn't fanciful enough to keep such experiments laying around, written or attempted, without knowing she would be able to make _use_ of said experiments.

A scowl twisted his worried expression. While he did not, in any sense of the word, answer to students...she was not only his student. She was his equal in the lab, and truth be told, his superior outside of it. A unnoticed shudder ran through him as the knowledge that the monarchy was not dead ran through his mind. Merlin help him if any of them defected to the Dark Lord.

Shaking his head once more, he turned away from the door and gazed absently around the lab. The cold, calculating voice of the man he had been, the spy he still _was_, stirred within his confused mind. Ruthlessly, he stabbed at the traitorous thoughts which slyly asked if he was merely trying to get revenge for the night before.

"As the night is long over," he murmured to himself aloud, "and circumstances being as they were, I've no reason to think about it."

Unwilling to face the mocking laughter of the darkness which defined him, the truth which was his existence, he made his way to the vacated office. Settling comfortably in his chair, he turned his attention to the latest edition of _Ars Alchemy. _

However, he was not destined to have peace and quiet just yet. With a whoosh, a face appeared wreathed in green flames in his fireplace.

"Severus?"

"What is it, Minerva?" he asked gruffly. A scowl twisted his lips as he kept the magazine in place; a futile attempt to discourage conversation, he knew.

"Will you please put down that thing and look at me?" demanded the Transfiguration Mistress. Blanking his expression, he sighed softly and slowly lowered the offending article.

"Thank you." Sarcasm and ire mixed thickened the older woman's Scottish brogue. "Now, whatever did you say to Miss Granger? She arrived in my office in quite a mood."

Narrowing his eyes, he leant forward and scowled at the floating head of his colleague. "It's not my fault she's angry."

"I believe it is, Severus. I asked what was wrong, and all she said was 'Professor Snape'. Why do you suppose that was?"

"None of your business. Now, go away," he muttered, raising his magazine once again. Clearly, for him at least, the conversation was finished.

Much to his surprise–and disappointment?–Minerva did just that. Muttering imprecations under his breath, he resumed his reading once more. But it really was not his day. Almost immediately the fireplace filled with green flames once again. Snape glanced up, startled.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! _What_ could you _possibly_ want, Albus?" he cried. Throwing the magazine to the ground in a rare display of petulance, he stared at the hearth once more.

The Headmaster appeared not to notice the spy's childish show of temper. "I just wanted to inform you that Miss Granger will be unable to assist you in brewing tomorrow. She's going home." The was a slight pause between statements, almost as if the news of her destination were a shock–or merely an afterthought to his explanation.

"Fine. Anything else?" Deep within his mind, the dark wizard nodded to himself as his voice betrayed nothing, as his body became impassive. Their Princess was entitled to do whatever he wished, was the silent knowledge that hung between them. Save for politeness, she had no obligation to tell _him _of her plans.

"Yes, actually. You need to sleep, Severus. You look tired," the old man added.

The expressionless mask which graced his tired expression became a scowl of irritation once more. Indignation bubbled within him. This...man. This...wizard, this general and master dared to criticize him? How did he have such a right when he, the great Albus Dumbledore, was one of many, or merely one of two, who benefitted from the blood he shed and agony he endured?

"I have slept," came the silkly, terse reply. "Though not nearly as long as I would have liked, no thanks to you. Are you finished?" he hissed, uncaring for his lack of manners.

"Yes, Severus. ...good night," mumbled the Headmaster as he regarded the younger man with sad eyes. The green flames faded to orange once the visitor retreated to his own office.

Closing his eyes, Severus drew several deep breaths as he summoned calm. Swallowing all the words he could never say, he reluctantly got to his feet to fetch the magazine back and settled wearily down to read for a few hours. There would be little sleep for one as damned as he.

_How the mighty have changed_, he mused to himself as he eyes glided over the parchment in his hands.

[-]

[-]

AN: I know, Hermione's annoyance once she gets to Minerva's office doesn't seem to make sense. Or maybe it does. I'm tired and over-hauling a story like this gets confusing after a while...because there are things I tend to rewrite. If it doesn't make sense, then let's say I kept it because everyone goes from annoyed to something else and back to annoyed once out of that person's presence at times.


	15. Necessities

**Chapter Twelve**

**Necessities**

It took her less than half an hour to eat a quick meal in her room, gather the few items she wanted to take home and near the vast main doors. It would take around ten minutes to reach the gates for Apperation, which meant she would be home right on time.

Wrapping the heavy cloak tighter around her like a blanket, she glanced down at herself almost frantically. Her robe was covered. Shaking her head at her own worry, the young princess donned her hood, pulled her wand and slipped into the cold January snow.

The harsh winter wind blew icy shards of snow everywhere. Though only ten in the morning, thick storm clouds gave the illusion of twilight.

_"Lumos solem."_ Her cry barely echoed in the sea of blinding whiteness. Her wand pointed towards the golden gates, she smiled in satisfaction as the path became clearly lit before her. Without pausing her stride, she placed a dome-like shield around herself, praying the protection would hold against the driving snow.

The ten minute walk stretched endlessly, the obscured grounds giving her no sense of direction. Despite the cloak and dome, her teeth chattered lightly as she slipped through the gates and Disapparated.

She never noticed the figure braving the storm behind her, following her step-for-step to ensure her safety.

Cursing quietly under her breath as she Apperated into the warm arrival room, she hung the cloak beside the fire and quickly dried her clothes. It took little time to straighten her hair and robes. A glance in a mirror assured her of her presentabilily. With a nod to herself, she went in search of her mother.

[-]

Thick, tall windows graced a sparsely furnished gallery overlooked the valley below. The aged, Muggle-made windows barely radiated cold from the storm which blew against them.

Helen sighed softly to herself as she pressed her hand to the well-crafted glass. She watched Mother Nature cover herself in the icy insulation, each gust of cutting wind stripping old, dead material from living plants.

As she stared at the simple beauty of Nature's necessary ferocity, she wondered what it would be like to live in a world where stone houses and sheltered fires didn't exist. Muggle or magical, human beings had done wonderful things, had survived a world beyond true understanding, long before domestic luxury.

As the wind whistled through the solarium, she marveled at how simple a storm explained a life she and her family, at times, detested. By all appearances, they were untouchable, a thing of majesty and celestial beauty, but also deadly if one wasn't careful. Yet few looked beyond the elegance of their life to see the people who were born into a world of excess, a world of politics and power...a world that, if they denied their birthright, could easily replace them with someone who cared little for those they were meant to serve.

Her thoughts were broken by soft footsteps nearing her sanctuary. Smiling to herself at her daughter's punctuality, she turned to greet her only child.

"Hermione," she breathed. The reason for her sacrifices, for the pain of lost dreams, the miracle which had healed so many wounds, stood before her. "I hope you're well," she murmured as she neared the younger woman. A mother's worry (some may call it prerogative) filled her as she anxiously looked the other female over. Only when she saw nothing out of place, and a smile on her daughter's face, did she relax.

"I'm fine, mother, just cold," Hermione replied as she hugged the older witch. They remained silent for a moment, allowing themselves to revel in peace which came from knowing one's family was safe. Only when she pulled away did she ask, "Do you know how hard it's snowing out there?"

"Yes, I know...and I'm sorry to ask you to come out on a day like this," came the apologetic but no-nonsense reply. "But it's important that you be there."

"Where?" Suspicion laced the word as Hermione heard the evasion in her mother's voice. Her eyes narrowed when the older woman kept her gaze adverted.

A ragged sigh fell from Helen's lips as she realized her child—her stubborn, sometimes foolish and very must-know child—was not going to let her say nothing. It was a simple fact. One she had to wonder who in the family she had gotten it from.

"The Duke of Ireland died yesterday, and all of us must attend the reading of his will today at two," she explained quietly. As she spoke, she guided Hermione gently out of the room and down the corridor.

"What did he die of?"

"Ironically, it was a stress overload."

The brunette witch snorted to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. "Figures. Although I thought he'd die of hormones, not stress."

Helen smiled briefly at the muttering, agreeing without words to the sentiment. They walked in silence through several hallways, the portraits greeting Hermione and then whispering amongst themselves. Some left their frames to report her visit to others around the castle. She didn't comment on the rude behavior but made a mental note to do so later.

Again.

Intrigued, Hermione twitched her hand and dipped into the spells surrounding the castle. Magic, energy, rushed through her. Her skin tingled as the ancient protections recognized her as blood-kin and allowed her access. It took barely a breath for her senses to tune to the portraits and even less time for their words to become clear.

"I don't believe it for a second!"

"It's true Anastasia, honest. She's been working with young Severus."

"Never, Albus wouldn't allow it!"

"Oh, but he has. He is. Severus was here one day during her break, you know, although she spent the last of it back at Hogwarts."

Smiling to herself, Hermione carefully withdrew from the wards. The magic released her like a parent humoring a child, carefully and with a slight reluctance, but allowing the act anyway. Her own ancestors had created the ancient, semi-sentient protections and every family member had added to them since then. At the birth of each royal child, the wards registered the infant's magical signature as blood-kin. The intricate web of energy which Merlin himself barely understood had become a system of offense, defense and observation through the generations. After the seventh birthday of each child, the child helped strengthen the wards. Each person who was keyed to the spells added something, changed it in some way.

"Mother," Hermione said in a hushed voice as she refocused her thoughts on her previous topic of thought, "have the portraits been gossiping like that since Severus first came?"

Helen smiled. "No...only since the third day or so," she added almost as an after-thought.

"How nice," Hermione said sarcastically.

Both women shook their heads as they slowed their pace, only to halt. Without a word, Helen knocked on the plain, heavy door before them. Watching her daughter straighten her already impeccable posture as the handle turned, she smothered another smile. She met the wise, brown eyes of her mother-in-law and tilted her head in greeting.

"Come in." Despite the familiar tone and words, the younger monarchs knew the order was one to be fulfilled. Once the matriarch stepped back and further opened the door did they enter the chamber within.

"Hello, Hermione. I think your mother has informed you of the Duke's passing?" came the inquiry as the door was shut behind them.

"Yes," Hermione replied blandly, eyes on her grandmother. "'Tis a tragedy, poor man." Though none believed her words, their necessity kept the older witches from commenting. Etiquette had to be maintained, and while all abhorred the loss of life, there was little love for the late aristocrat.

Leda sniffed quietly, head tilted ever so slightly as she regarded the youngest member of her family. "Indeed," she drawled, "Hermione, I'd like you to wear the Crest."

"Of course. If I may beg your advice...which robe do you think would be suitable?"

"The blue, I believe." Leda looked over at Hermione, who seemed rather distracted. "What troubles you, child?"

"My deceased family is whispering about me!" the brunette sputtered indignantly. "Like I've committed some scandal!"

"Do not worry about them, child," stated the silver-haired woman with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You know they've little better to do."

"Anastasia was doing it, too," Hermione persisted.

"Yes, well, I shall have a word with them. I know... Since you have a few hours until we have to go, why don't you take a nice walk?"

"Yes Grandmother." Bowing her head, she quickly retreated from the chambers and made her way to the garden. Only when the glass doors shut behind her did she slow her pace and breathe deeply.

Shielded from the calming storm, the magical ecology of the garden allowed plants of every season to thrive. Where as some had gone dormant, others were shedding seeds while some presented full blooms. Running her fingers over the delicate foliage, she hummed quietly to herself as she allowed the calmness of nature to spread through her. Breathing deeply, she allowed her feet to guide her. Step by slow, lazy step, she walked the garden and entered the maze.

A stroll through the maze gave her mind time to relax and process all that had happened since she'd last been home. As she twirled a posy in her hand, collected from her walk, she smiled to herself at the memory of her last "stroll" through the large hedge structure.

A long soak in water so hot the room resembled a sauna allowed her mind to drift into dreams and fragmented, meaningless thoughts. As she dried and dressed in a floor-length, royal blue robe embroidered with the Sparta Crest, she met her own eyes in the mirror.

Reflected before her, damp hair resting atop a towel draped over her shoulders, was a woman of nobility, of royalty. The respectable robe was cut with a slight V in the chest, revealing still pink skin as the bath heat slowly faded from her. The loose sleeves, comfortable enough to flow but tight enough not to hinder, hid the wand which was never far from her.

Her eyes, eyes so very telling if one only knew what to look for, landed upon the symbol of her family. Embroidered with a deep red thread that seem to absorb any light which touched it was a diamond with a multi-pointed star centered within. Edged with gold thread, the diamond seemed almost protective of the star within it. Nestled in cocooned star was a rich flame which rested calmly within its captivity.

It had no meaning to the few Muggles who had ever glimpsed it, she knew, but each element of the ancient mark had been chosen for a reason. The red, nearly as crimson as the blood which flowed through her delicate, mortal veins, indicated courage, a strong will, and passion. A mere touch, almost a whisper for it all but seemed dwarfed by the other colors, of gold signaled wealth. Not only financially but also emotionally and intellectually. Intuition and strong magic, traits which came from a strong will as much as good training and "well-bred" genes made themselves known in the metallic hue. Silver was not nearly as obvious in its meaning, but when coupled with the star, it represented stability as well as flexibility.

The flame, however, is what had entranced her as a child. Stars and diamonds, no matter how many points, would always be simple symbolism. Elements, equality, freedom and restriction. Et cetera et al, as the scholars loved to say. Yet the flame, which stood for so much more than the family's protective nature and status, for their passion and strength, was much more.

If the thread was infused with an old spell, one originally used by Healers and Medi-Witches and Wizards, it became an indicator of mood. While some would question such a spell placed upon the symbol of the royal family's Crest, the explanation she had been given as a child was very simple. While the original reason for the spell's use was vague, despite generation's worth of research, it acted as a warning system in modern times. Akin to Muggle governments security alert color codes, as her mother had said, the flame within their symbol would change as needed.

That wasn't to say that it couldn't change for a single person, the older witch had went on to warn. She herself, Helen had said with a soft smile, had often used the enchanted flame to "get it through your father's thick head that he needed to do more than work". The young princess had asked, as all in their family had done at some point, how could it be so specific for one person but general for the community? The queen had chuckled and kissed the girl's cheek, telling her it was all a matter of intent. Or instinct, depending on the situation.

As she turned from the mirror, the memory playing within the fore of her mind, she looked upon the simple tiara which graced her dresser. As dictated by law, a miniature version of the Crest was engraved within the metal. Many had tried to copy the Crest through the years, to claim the name of Sparta for their own nefarious purposes, but none save the family and those few chosen outside them knew it was magic, the same magic which gave the wards their sentient state, that colored and sealed the Crest. Much like a Ministry seal, none could perfectly copy the spells needed to create the prestigious symbol.

Sighing, she lifted the light tiara and stared at it for a moment. It was times like these, times she knew Hermione Granger and all she stood for, all she represented to Hermione Sparta, that she found herself well and truly taking her last "living" breaths. Fixing the item atop her head, she glimpsed in the mirror before tearing her eyes away.

There wasn't time for sentimental regrets. Her duty, her country, came first. It always had...always will. She could give up her place as Heir, could step away from the title of Princess. But...if she did...what would happen? Her grandparents, for all their wit and strength, were not getting any younger. Her parents, though still somewhat young by magical standards, were still mortal. With no siblings, the throne would surely go to a foreigner, one who wouldn't know the country as they did, wouldn't understand it, for they hadn't been born to it. Could they be trusted to do what was best for a nation they hadn't been born to, hadn't shed tears and blood for?

No. They couldn't. And long before she'd asked her family this question, she'd already known the answer. It wasn't arrogance or pride which kept her from chasing the freedom she so desired, nor was it the elegance of their life. It was simply that the people came first.

There was no reason to delay any longer. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she donned a thick, midnight-blue cloak and clasp it with a Crest made of Goblin-forged silver.

It didn't take her long to reach her mother's room where the others were waiting. Silently, small family made their way to the Apparation room and Apparated. Stepping easily from the Apparation, they walked down a pebbled pathway which led to a rather decrepit looking manor house. Clearly the late Duke valued drink over cleanliness.

As heads of the monarchy, Leda and Agamemnon led the group. All withdrew their wands as they approached the door, both for protection and tradition. As they neared, the door slowly opened, loud creaking breaking the silence. An elderly wizard emerged within the large opening and tottered forward.

With a bow, he spoke loud enough to be heard by all, but low enough to be respectful to the Grand King and Queen who stood before him. "Welcome to the Manor of Ireland, Your Majesties," he said in a thick Irish accent. He bowed low once more when he glimpsed the Crests upon their robes, now assured his failing vision had not deceived him.

Though she knew it was unkind, Hermione privately wondered whether he would fall over from such a low bow. Etiquette or not, it was clear the elderly wizard was not in the best of health. But, despite her misgivings, he rose steadily once more and gestured to the open door in welcome.

Still led by the Matriarch and Patriarch of the family, the Spartas entered without hesitation. While she had no thought or feeling of superiority for her life and station, the sight of the old, filthy house around her made Hermione shudder. How one could live in such a place- willing, not out of necessity mind you- was beyond her.

The man almost tripped as he led them to a small study. Surprisingly clean, it was clear someone had been informed of their impending arrival...even if their escort had been failed of such specific notification.

All five gazed calmly at a wizard standing beside the small fireplace as he bowed. "Good afternoon, Your Majesties," the wizard greeted them.

"Good afternoon to you," Agamemnon returned politely, inclining his head. Pulling a chair for his wife, he bit back a smile as she hummed in pleasure at his manners. Pulling a second chair for his granddaughter as his son did the same for his wife, he waited for the witches to be seated before taking his own seat.

The wizard, a barrister rather than executioner of estate by the look of his sash, seated himself at an ancient desk upon which sat a single parchment. He cleared his throat and painstakingly cleaned his glasses on the front his threadbare robes. His hands shook slightly as he looked at the family before him. Clearing his throat a second time, he replaced his glasses and smoothed the parchement.

"As you know, we are here to read the will of the Duke of Ireland, who passed yesterday at noon. Does anyone wish to say anything before we proceed?" Silence reigned as all wondered what there could be said which was necessary for such a reading. "No? Very well, then, let us continue." The parchment rustled as he lifted it, the state of his nerves obvious. His glasses began to slide down his nose, and he absently pushed them back up as he began to read.

"I, the Duke of Ireland, bequeath my land to my successor as Duke. In the case that my family line dies with me and there is no heir, I bequeath my land to the Grand King Agamemnon Mycenae and his blood family. My fortune I leave to Princess Hermione Sparta. In the case she does not, or can not, accept this, then the money shall go to the Ministry of Magic of Ireland. My other possessions may be given to whomever wants them. If they are not claimed, I would like them to be given to the Ministry of Magic of Ireland for further distribution throughout the Wizarding world of Ireland."

There was silence for a moment. Then Agamemnon spoke.

"I shall accept the land, out of respect for the Duke's wishes."

Hermione bowed her head ever so slightly to her grandfather, acknowledging the unspoken acceptance of whatever her choice was. "I shall accept the money, out of respect for the Duke's wishes."

The old wizard sighed in relief, pleased this would be completed so easily. He knew there was little love between the late Duke and the monarchs before him, and that they had no legal obligation to accept his wishes. Despite the simplicities of the Duke's alternative wishes, the government would not make the barrister's job easy if they were to take the land and money.

"Very well, Your Majesty, Princess. Please sign here and here. The deed to the Duke's estate will be sent as soon as possible, Sire. And Your Highness, the Duke's financial holdings will be transferred to your possession."

Both knew they had not lied, though they had also not told the complete truth. The Duke's wishes were inconsequential. Yet they also knew, just as the trembling wizard before them, that there was much they could do with the land and money. Even if they simply gave it to the Irish Ministry of Magic, it was they who would stipulate the terms as to what would be done with it. While their own Ministry may not reflect the standings of other governments (such as self-serving, ignorant, pompous fools strutting before disgusting displays of "status" in the atrium) there was no government in the world which would not look out for its own welfare. A dead man was not able to say "use the land and money for the homeless", whereas a living beneficiary could.

The realization sunk in as they signed their names, their signatures glowing for a moment. As of noon the previous day, they were now one of the last of the Wizarding royal families within the hemisphere. Other than thanking both the barrister and butler, none spoke as they contemplated the implications of the Duke's death.

[-]

[-]

AN: I figured it would be ok to end the chapter here.


	16. The Next Step

**Chapter Thirteen**

**The Next Step**

They attended all the proper rituals as custom dictated, including the hour long funeral and the half-hour wand-breaking ceremony, before returning home. It didn't take them long to change and sit for dinner, as there was still a few hours before Hermione had to return to school.

"Hermione... As the Duke is now dead, we are the last of the Wizarding Royals—the five of us—until such time as you have a child of your own."

Her fork hovered above her food, her hand frozen as she lifted her head. Minor shock radiated through her as she drew a shuddering breath. She hadn't expected such talk during their meal. At least…not this early during it. "I know. I understand, Grandfather," she told him quietly.

"Good," he responded briskly, holding her eyes. "We will reveal ourselves soon. Despite his childish behavior, Tom's impatient for the final confrontation between himself and Mr. Potter is not something anyone can afford."

"I have a question," Hermione admitted hesitantly, absently pushing food around her place.

"Yes?"

"How—no, who is your spy? Other than Severus…."

Her grandfather gave a sad smile, eyes crinkling as he regarded her. "I can not tell you that, my child. They are trustworthy, which is all you need to know."

Swallowing the urge to demand an answer, she returned to the previous subject. "When are we going to reveal the truth?"

"That, unfortunately, is the problem. 'A moment that is right, but will not be expected.' We don't know, and shan't, until it's time. But you must be careful. Keep yourself safe at all times, and at any cost," he told her, no, _ordered_ her solemnly. He held her gaze once more, allowing her to feel the weight of his words.

"Cost?" she asked. Swallowing anxiously, she lowered her fork and folded her hands in her lap. They were at war with a tyrant intent on destroying the world—she knew there would be death, blood on her hands by the end. But this...this was different.

This was...unknown.

"Come, Agamemnon, don't frighten the poor girl. We don't even know who the 'last' is," her grandmother admonished.

"Leda!" Agamemnon hissed quickly. Despite the near slip, he couldn't help but turn away to hide a smile as his dignified wife slapped a hand over her mouth and flushed deeply like a child caught in a lie.

Hermione looked between them, dinner forgotten as curiosity threaded through her. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, darling," Helen said, looking at her mother-in-law sharply.

Pouting within her mind, the youngest witch presently decided to let it go. The "adults" had decided she wouldn't receive any further information, so there was no point in trying.

"I think it's time I return to school," she said while pushing her chair back. She took formal leave of her family and went to her room to prepare for her return. A quick Floo-call to the Headmaster told him of her impending arrival. Once sure he'd had enough time to alert the wards to her upcoming presence, she Disapperated.

[-]

Darkness engulfed the vast grounds, Hogwarts a beacon amongst the long-reaching shadows. Biting her lip, she stared down the long, unseen path to the vast stone fortress. Not daring to cast a Lumos least she signal her absence, she thought. If caught, she could say she was helping Hagrid. But few would believe she would assist with the animals. Maybe lesson plans? She'd done it before. Now there was a believable lie.

Surrounded by darkness so heavy she could barely make out her own hand in the refracted light of the castle, she tensed when she heard footsteps. The brittle sheets of ice which held the thick blankets of snow in place crunched loudly in the silence. A soft wind, cutting from the chill, carried the sound to her, warning her of the nearing person. Pulling her wand, she spun in a futile attempt to see.

"Who's there?" she called shakily, cursing herself for fear.

"Do calm down," a familiar voice drawled. Amusement as dark as the night around her laced through the simple words, deepening the friendly tone in which they were spoke.

"Is there something you want besides to annoy me?" she asked while sheathing the precious wooden conduit.

Stepping closer, Severus cast a dim light to his wand. He met her eyes and lowered his voice. "I didn't mean to startle or annoy you. I came to apologize."

"Severus," she sighed softly, suddenly tired. "Must we do this out here, in the snow? I've Apparated all around the continent today (here, to home, to Ireland, back home and back here, if you must know), several times in fact. The climate changes are…annoying," she finished weakly.

He chuckled and nearly laughed when she sighed in annoyance once more. "Lets go inside, by all means. What exactly were you doing in Ireland?" he asked as they began to trudge back up the sloping expanse of snow. He went before her, casting a Warming charm to re-break his previous trail through the frozen fluff.

"The reading of the Duke's will. Now don't change the subject. You came down here to apologize?"

A sigh bubbled softly from his chest as he focused on the stone structure so far ahead of them. Normally loathe to admit his wrongs aloud, to give _anyone_ the possibility of control through an apology, he couldn't understand the sudden urge- nay, the _need_ to do so now. Something about her…. Something about this woman, this particular witch, had turned his entire world around. What had become his life was now foreign, his thoughts, his very reactions so vastly different from what they had been mere months before.

"Yes," he admitted while keeping his voice level. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. If you had projects that far along, I should have trusted you enough to believe what you said rather than jump to conclusions and state the obvious without all the facts. I'm sorry."

"Thank you. What have you been doing all day?"

She watched him from the corner of her eye in the dim wand-light as she spoke, hands buried deep in her pockets. Something squirmed within her stomach and fluttered through her shivering limbs. Despite the cold, the urge to close the distance between them, to lay her hand on his arm and assure them both of her presence was nearly overwhelming. Restraining herself, she pushed her hands even further into the folded cloth.

"Other than feeling miserable?" he quipped as the corner of his mouth twitched. Even with the charms around them, even with the magic which melted the snow before them as they walked, the dense blanket of ice crystals made it difficult to move their feet. Only halfway to the castle, both stared at the smoke rising from the vast chimneys with longing. So close, yet so far.

Ignoring the cold, Hermione shook her head slightly and returned her subtle gaze to him. She saw through the sarcasm and knew that he was telling the truth despite himself. He _had_ been miserable all day, his sardonic smile told her. Her heart warmed at the round-about acknowledgement of their…friendship.

"And why would you feel miserable?" she questioned lightly, her one of teasing rather than true inquiry.

"That is not something I'm going to answer. What, exactly, possessed you to wait for me last night?" he retorted, changing the subject abruptly. He watched her as surely as she watched him, taking in the soft shrug of her shoulder as she chose her words.

"I don't know," came the quiet admission. "I just…wanted to be sure you were all right when you got back. I must've fallen asleep," Hermione added casually, praying the conversation would end.

By silent agreement, neither mentioned what had happened after he had woken her. They knew if the actual words were said, aloud and inescapable, there would be no turning back. Such words would start them down a road they had no knowledge of, no map for…a road they weren't sure where lead.

The snow around them illuminated in an ethereal, dull silver glow as the clouds parted slightly. What little moonlight there was painted the grounds with an unearthly beauty, giving both of them pause from their troubled musing.

"So," she began after several minutes, "are there any rumors of my royal lineage—and if so, how many? And speaking of whispering, my family portraits are…speaking about us." A grimace of distaste marred her features as she turned to him, waiting, wondering.

He met her eyes for the barest second before focusing on her face. A small smile turned his lips before he could stop it. "I haven't heard many rumors today, despite this being a prison filled with inane teenagers. Some of the school portraits are gossiping also," he added in afterthought. "Though they have enough respect to keep silent when around any who could overhear."

"Well, that's a miracle."

A lone figured slipped through the large front doors, waiting on the top rung as they finally mounted the stairs. Emerald eyes held pleasure at their obvious ease. Some people were not meant to be separated.

Severus Snape and Hermione Sparta just happened to be two of them.

"Professor McGonagall," said Hermione once she could see who it was.

"I'm glad to see you made it back safely, Miss Granger. Severus, your Slytherins insist your presence is necessary in the common room this instant," she added. She hid a smile as he said something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Damned spoilt brats" before darting into the warmth of the castle.

Minerva gazed at Hermione with a questioning look. She sighed in relief as the younger witch confirmed what she already knew with a smile. Anger had faded, the smile told her. Things were…all right now. Without a word, they entered the main hall, leaving the cold behind them.

"Where's Peeves?" Hermione asked as she looked around the desolate area.

"In Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," was the Transfiguration Mistress' chuckled reply. "Apparently the Bloody Baron was after him. He's been hiding in there for hours. Students have taken to taunting him as they pass, claiming the Baron is still present or something similar."

A quiet laugh escaped the younger woman, a welcome relief to the day's turbulence. "That's excellent news. I can't say I pity him. He's tormented all of us at some point or another.

"Professor," she asked in a quieter voice, "what are people saying about my absence?"

"Not much, surprisingly," assured the older witch as they made their way to Gryffindor tower. She told the younger woman of the day's events. She drew the summary to a close with what she was sure the other woman wanted to hear of most.

"I promise you, Severus was miserable, Miss Granger. While I normally wouldn't attribute this word with him, I can find no other. He was sulking."

Soft laughter spilled from Hermione as she told the portrait the password. Barely blinking, she gasped as the boys leapt from their chairs and embraced her. Their momentum combined by the sudden weight made all three teens lose their balance and begin to fall backwards.

"_Wingardium leviosa_," Minerva intoned quickly, her wand trained on the trio. Only when she was sure they could regain their footing did she release the spell, smiling softly at the blushing students.

"Thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome, Miss Granger. Be careful, boys."

"Yes, Professor," they said in unison. McGonagall turned to leave.

"Professor," called Hermione, "how much time is left until curfew?"

"A few hours, since you Prefects still have to do your rounds." Hermione slapped her forehead, having forgotten. She turned to leave again, the boys trailing after her.

"'Mione! Wait up!" Ron said, and she turned, one hand on the doorway.

"You guys can't come."

"What? Why? We haven't seen you all day."

"I'll be in the common room later. Go back," she said, and she ducked through the portrait hole once more. As Ron turned back, Harry mumble about needing to see Flitwick about Friday's homework seeing as practice had been scheduled both nights.

"Where ya going, 'Mione?" Harry asked through pants he caught up with her.

"Madam Pomfrey, Professors Sprout, Snape, Dumbledore."

"Wow."

"Mm," she agreed quietly with a nod. "Harry...would you do me a favor and come with me...wait for me outside their offices?"

Considering her request, so unusual for the outgoing girl he'd known for the past several years, he sent her another searching, questioning look. Something was going on, but for now...he wouldn't push. "Okay, sure. Where to first?"

"Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Sprout, and Snape," came the sighed list. Neither remarked on the lack of honorifics.

"Okay." And without thought they ran down to the Infirmary, merry laughter trailing behind them as they narrowly avoided falling down the shifting stairs.

[-]

Madam Pomfrey greeted them within the empty infirmary. "Miss Granger, what has Mr. Potter done now?"

"Nothing, Madam. I collected some of the seeds you had mentioned wanting," Hermione explained. Without another word, she extended her hand, a small glass bottle lined with flower petals held between her fingertips. Madam Pomfrey stared at the bottle, somewhat taken aback, then smiled warmly.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Your timing is impeccable; I was nearly out."

"You're welcome," said Hermione, and without warning, they were off again, running to Dumbledore's office. He was appropriately grateful for the Winter Lemons. They grew only in winter and the miniature trees were filled already with small lemons and beautiful, fragrant flowers.

When they arrived at Professor Sprout's office, located in Hufflepuff House, she was in tears, and threw her arms around Hermione in thanks for the variety specimens. Harry laughed silently to himself at the comical expression of shock on his friend's face as the older witch's hug (strangle hold).

"I'm not sure how you did it, Miss Granger, but you are a savior," she said as she blinked back tears of gratitude.

With more subdued steps, they made their way to the dungeons. "You sure you don't want me to come in with you?" Harry asked as they stood at the top of the descending stairs.

Hermione smiled reassuringly. "Yes, I'm sure. Besides, someone has to keep the Slytherins out." Harry mumbled something about overgrown bats belonging outside, and Hermione smiled again, knowing his heart wasn't truly in it.

After saving them the summer before, the boys (mostly Harry) had realized the Potions Master acted in the only way he could. It also helped that in private, Severus treated them marginally better (in his own twisted way, of course).

With a deep breath, and a shooing gesture to the hovering Boy-Who-Lived, Hermione descended the stairs and made her way towards the subterrain classrooms. The Potions classroom door opened with ease and she spared Harry a glance before entering. She never saw her friend take a few reluctant steps towards her only to back away when the door latched shut.

Another slow, deep breath barely calmed her nerves as Hermione made her way from room to room. Only when she stood before the office door did she, but for a moment, falter. Shaking her head, she knocked without a single hesitation, her rap strong.

Within the quiet room, the sound resonated clearly. Before silence reined once more, he called a strong "enter", unsurprised when his guest did so.

He snapped a question of her desire while the door was still open, weary of observers. Though once the near-silent click of the bolt sliding home reached his ears, his mask fell.

As soon as the wood barrier stilled, his back straightened and he gestured towards the chair before his desk. The automatic Silencing charm on the door made their conversation safe, though one could never be too careful. It was only once they cast their own protections that she spoke.

"Do you recall the Trilliums we were discussing a few weeks ago, sir?"

There was the briefest of pauses as the truth of the situation, of their ill-fitting roles and the gap of power and authority, hung between them. For just a moment, despite sitting within the prestigious school she attended and which was his employment, it did not feel as if they were within the boundaries of Hogwarts.

He was not her knight, but he was her warrior, a warrior of her family. She was not his to save, but she was his monarch, a ruler of his nation.

The sardonic nature of their role reversal was not lost on either of them.

"Of course," he drawled when the moment passed, "how could I forget?"

"Well, they've gone to seed," she informed him. "I've given other seeds to Madam Pomfrey, who will more than likely seeking your skill soon." As she spoke, she set three small jars and a packet upon the desk between them.

He lifted up each one in turn and examined it, pouring out a few seeds and roots, quiet as always when examining new supplies. He waited, knowing her patience would only last so long.

She lasted nearly five minutes by his estimation.

Her impatience boiled over as she snapped his name in irritation. "Severus!"

"Yes, yes, calm down. I just-"

"-wanted to be sure you could trust my ingredients?"

"Oh, I do trust them. Rather, I trust _you_. Obtaining ingredients of this rarity, least of all in all four stages of its seasonal cycle, was not possible for me before I met you. Therefore, it is...necessary for me to review what you have given me."

He met her gaze, unflinching at the challenge he saw. He issued one of his own with a raised brow, daring her to find fault in his sincerity, to give _him_ reason to doubt hers.

She snorted softly as her indignation faded and muttered under her breath. "More like a renowned Potions Master who doesn't want to have to thank his student."

He chuckled, understanding the insult for the apology it was. Theirs was an odd rapport, of that he had no doubt. "They will be put to good use, Hermione, do not worry. Do you have elsewhere to be?" he added when he noticed her shifting in the chair.

"Sadly, yes. I was hoping I could do some brewing..." She trailed off as she looked at him once more.

"The Room of Requirements not good enough for you?" he questioned as he rose. His face betrayed nothing as he watched her expression shift several times in a matter of seconds.

"Why, you arro-you truly enjoy neddling me, don't you?"

"It is one of my few amusements these days. Now, please return to Potter before he wears a hole in the corridor." He held open the door as she snorted, shaking his head at their behavior.

Some instinct made her close the distance of the classroom quickly. As predicted, Harry was no longer waiting in the entrance hall but pacing in the corridor.

"What took so long?" he demanded. "No, don't answer, let's just go." He tugged on her sleeve as she shut the door. He cast nervous glances at the classroom as if the evil Potions Master were going to emerge momentarily.

"Harry, what-"

"No time. Later," he added as he wrapped a hand around her wrist and pulled. "C'mon!"

Hermione reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled to the Main Hall. Only when they stood beside the main stairs did she succeed in pulling her arm from his grasp. "Now, just what is going on?" she asked sternly. Harry sighed.

"A few Slytherins saw you go into the Potions classroom and…started spouting insults. When I tried to ignore them, _like you always tell me to_, they just…got worse."

"Why? What exactly did they say?" Hermione asked, puzzled. Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously, which only fueled her suspicions. "Harry…" she said warningly.

With a deep breath, the emerald eyed wizard met her hard gaze. The words fell from his lips in a rush, barely comprehensible they were uttered so quickly.

" 'dbeenshaggingSnapeforthepast year."

He watched in fearful fascination, while also taking several steps backwards, at the changes which occurred on his friend's face. Her lips parted in a silent gasp as her cheeks became pink, her eyes seeking the floor from embarrassment. Within moments the light blush faded to deep red as her hard eyes rose, a vein pulsing in her forehead. Her anger was legendary within Hogwarts and something deep within him almost pitied the Slytherins when she found them—almost.

"_Keep yourself safe,_"echoed through her mind. She pushed her anger away as memories stirred, lessons on battle and strategy. "_Your opponents will underestimate you, use it to your advantage. Pick a moment that is right, but will not be expected before you strike."_

Taking a deep breath, she nodded to herself. She would pick the right moment. And also save herself the headache from telling Severus of his students' speculations.

Harry backed away at the smile which suddenly appeared on the witch's face. "Herm…are you all right?" he asked slowly, wondering if she'd finally cracked.

"I'm fine Harry," she told him with a quiet laugh. "If you'll excuse me, I need to see the Headmaster again. I have a plan to put into action."

Harry stared after her before shaking his head and slowly making his way back up towards the entrance hall. Best not be caught in the dungeons again anyway.

[-]

"Dots," she called when she saw the stone statue, nearly breathless from sprinting up the stairs. The gargoyle leapt aside and she took the spiral staircase two steps at a time. Only when she stood before the closed door did she pause long enough to compose herself before knocking.

"Come in, Miss Granger," Dumbledore called. He smiled to himself when Hermione all but bound through the door. Her excitement was infectious. It made him feel young again, to see a student with such happiness.

"Sir, I would like permission to implement a plan of mine," she informed him as she calmed herself. Now wasn't the time for childish glee, now was the time for an adult conversation.

"What plan is this?" he asked curiously, indicating she should sit with a wave of his hand. He watched her smooth her clothes in delay and chuckled under his breathe. Some habits would never leave her, he suspected.

She made herself comfortable in the chair and told him everything which had occurred since leaving his office previously. Then she told him of her plan, one she was rather proud of if she could say so.

"So…sir, may I do this?"

He looked over half-moon spectacles to meet her anxious gaze. "I see no harm in it, as long as you are somewhat modest. And don't get yourself or Severus into trouble," he added with a stern tone. When she smiled charmingly in response he inwardly sighed and wondered how long it would be before _none_ of the students listened to him as their Headmaster.

"I won't, sir," she calmly assured him. She never looked away from his eyes, understanding the warning for what it was. "My mother also approved, though she worded her approval slightly different." Her lips twitched as she remembered her mother's words through the enchanted coin. _"It's a brilliant plan. Serves the little buggers right for speaking of such things. Get the Headmaster's permission and have fun…just don't overdo it Hermione, you know how you can be."_

"I must inform the other professors," Albus mused to himself, mind drifting to what was to come.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Hermione stood and all but bounced on the balls of her feet. "Thank you, sir. I promise, truly, it won't be that bad. May I?" she asked, gesturing to the lit fireplace.

"By all means, Miss Granger." When she saw him wave dismissively, she threw a pinch of the emerald powder into the flames and call for the Tower common room. The seconds her feet hit the red carpet she was running once more. Only quieting enough not to wake the entire dorm, she entered the room and made her way to Ginny's bed.

Pushing the heavy drapes aside, she quickly shook the red-head away. It took only moments for the younger witch to understand her excitement and even less time to agree with "The Plan". It took them little time to agree to wake at five to begin the first step….


	17. Intimacy of Revenge

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Intimacy of Revenge**

Humming quietly to himself as he organized his thoughts, Albus scraped his fingers through the nearly empty bowl of Floo powder. Grimacing as his knuckles raked against the hard stone, he removed what little of the powder was left and threw it into the flames. His raspy voice was firm as he called to his professors and explained what was planned as quickly as possible.

"Does anyone object?" he questioned as he stared at the faceless flames. This must be what Muggles felt when they spoke on…what were they…telephones. So many hearths were connected to his own that none could communicate properly.

"If she has parental permission and this is neither harmful nor truly disruptive, I do not see a reason to object. Her Maj…_Helen_ is a smart woman and I must agree with her on this matter, this display is warranted."

"Do be quiet, Minerva," Severus bit out. Albus swallowed a chuckle as he pictured the expression on the Potion Master's face, one he knew well.

Severus hissed when Albus said nothing, knew what the older man was thinking. Something within him boiled at the Headmaster's amusement, at the disregard he had come to know well. "If you recall, _I_ am the one who is being said to do such things!" Within his dungeon rooms, obsidian eyes stared at the emerald flames as anger burned within his heart. Did none of them understand what it meant to live the life he did, to have the knowledge and memories of such horrid things that even a phoenix shivered at his nightmares?

"Students—my own Slytherins—believe I am taking Miss Granger to my bed. I do not want her dressing in such a manner, especially in my class, for petty revenge! Potions is a dangerous enough subject as it is, ladies and gentleman…or have you all forgotten this?" he questioned with obvious sarcasm. The thought of any student dressing in such a manner as she was proposing was repulsive enough. But his Princess, his lab partner… He shied away from the thought, unwilling to face what may be lurking within the shadows of his mind. To feel her skin against his, even in the comforting manner it had been in the last few weeks… No, he would _not_ condone this at all!

"Come now, Severus… If a male student had suggested the same to one of your House's females, you would be more than happy to help her with her revenge!"

He stared at the flames once more, incredulous. He knew from her tone that she was merely having a laugh at his expense, yet her words combined with the chuckles and titters of the other professors only stoked his ire. He would not condone such a thing for _any_ student for the simple fact that he or she _was_ a student. Propriety aside, safety during classes and from the castle itself was immediate. The castle was old and had a mind of its own, never mind the fact that it was often cold.

"As it happens, it's a _Gryffindor_ girl! Honestly, Minerva, have you no conscience?"

"Oh, yes, plenty," she said merrily. She too stared at the flames, but unlike her younger friend, she smiled with true delight. She had her reservations about this, as they all did…yet she remembered that Hermione was of age, old enough to make her own decisions and care for herself. As a student, she technically needed their permission….but if her manner of dress was in regulations, could they truly stop her? There was no shame in finding amusement in the situation.

"So listen to it."

"I am. My conscience says there is nothing truly wrong with this plan of hers and that you object for another reason."

She laughed quietly as he snarled "Stupid Gryffindor," and absented himself from the conversation. The others chuckled.

Her laughter died as she truly considered his words.

"Albus…maybe this isn't a good idea after all. I would hate for him, or anyone, to be hurt because of this," she said. Doubts began to gnaw at her as she considered the situation more and more.

"No one will Minerva," Albus soothed as he leant back in his chair. "She will be wearing a standard school robe during any brewing." Despite his light voice and earlier endorsement, his own concerns turned within his mind. Accepting this plan was the only way to keep the situation under control. Hermione Granger had a violent temper, as Draco Malfoy had experienced. Hermione Sparta was the epitome of control…yet was more ruthless than the girl she pretended to be. Letting this be settled now was the safest course of action for all concerned.

….so why did he feel as if it wasn't?

[-]

True to her word, Ginny was awake at five the next morning. Just a few minutes after the great clock chimed, she kicked Hermione's door softly, arms loaded with supplies. Those supplies currently lay scattered around the older girls' room as the redhead sorted through clothes she had never seen the other wear.

"Wow, Herm, can I borrow a few of these things once in a while?"

"Depends- but that can wait. Let's get started." And they did.

It took two hours (mostly due to the charmed state of Hermione's hair) for the transformation to be completed. Staring at herself in the mirror, she took in the changes.

A simple bun kept most of her hair from her face with only a few curls framing her features. Her healthy pink lips were the color of blood and a brush of blush graced her cheeks. Faint in color, red glitter eyeshadow, something so very _not _Hermione, adorned her eye. A tight silk halter revealed more skin than most thought she possessed. Low black Muggle pants hugged her legs like a second skin only to flare out at her knee. And her _shoes_…boots a slag would envy, with thin heels and tight to the knees, an intriguing buckle just above her ankle.

Circe, did she _really_ want to do this?

"Showy but not obscene…perfect," Ginny declared as she circled her friend. "Don't bite your lip, you'll smear the stain before it dries!"

Hermione shook her head and looked at her adornments with a practiced eye. She wore a thin choker from which a small chain hung a charm. A small metal flame rested against her collarbone, the black bottom shading into red near the top. Black diamonds graced her ears, a microscopic Crest within each stud for protection. Charm bracelets with red and black hung on each arm, the metal clinking like wind chimes.

It was…_not_ her. At all. "Ginny…are you sure this is me?" She met her own eyes in the mirror, both liberated and horrified by the woman she saw. The point of the whole thing was to _look_ like _this_…and she did own the clothes. She even wore them. But not to this extreme. Oh gods, what had she gotten herself into?

"Yes, it is," Ginny replied smugly, oblivious to Hermione's internal argument.

"Well, if you want me to repay the favor I will," Hermione commented, allowing herself to…admire…the changes as she turned from side to side in front of the reflective glass. "Come on, let's go wake the boys," she said as she pulled her eyes away from her own body. An idea formed in her mind as she expertly twirled in the boots. _Wizarding clothing was strange,_ she thought. Two inch heels and she hadn't gained an inch of height. Weird.

The charmed bracelets were bespelled to hold her wand, school books and other needed items… including her robes, which Severus would kill her for if she didn't wear them.

….Severus was probably going to kill her anyway….he was as no-nonsense as she was in the lab. Shaking her head, she turned her mind back to the task at hand.

They silently crept to the boys' dorm, silently snickering to themselves. As they made their way to the door, Hermione turned back. "I have a better idea. Since the professors know about this," she gestured to herself, "I'll enter breakfast alone."

She grinned as Ginny gave her a Slytherin-worthy smirk.

With a few waves of her wand, she charmed all of the Gryffindor alarm clocks to go off at the same time….but only after she was hidden once more in her room of course.

When she knew the last person had left for breakfast, she sped on silent feet down to the Great Hall. She took a moment to compose herself before flinging open the massive doors. The silence which descended as the heavy wood swung open made her smile. Drama was fun.

_No, bad Hermione, focus on the task at hand, you can laugh later…since when are there this many people in the castle?_

Students and staff alike stared at her. Reactions among the houses varied, but shock underlaid all of them. The Slytherins looked as though they were about to have a collective heart attack. The Gryffindors, overall, appeared proud and rather awed by the spectacle. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were simply speechless. This was _Hermione Granger_?!

Reminding herself she had faced the stares of people more dangerous than the students around her, Hermione calmly made her way down the aisle to take her usual place between Harry and Ron. Silence reined for several minutes before the redhead yelped, sliding down the bench away from her.

Without pausing as she buttered her toast, she never looked at the boy beside her as she spoke. "Try that again, Ronald, and I'll castrate you here and now."

The silence shattered as everyone started to whisper at once, a few daring people whistling. Even the professors, for all their forewarnings, spoke quietly amongst themselves at the staff table.

"This was your plan? Herm, you'll just make things worse!" Harry hissed as he leaned closer to his pseudo-sister. Clearly she hadn't gotten enough sleep; Hermione was smarter than this!

"No, I won't. If they think I'm going to go curl up and lick my wounds, they've got another thing coming. It's funny, actually. I swear, Pansy's trying to Avada me with just her mind."

"So are a lot of other girls, Herm," Ginny said with another proud smirk. Hermione, it must be admitted, was finally wearing a smirk of her own.

The bell rang and she stood, leaning forward to step over the bench. Without exception, every male student in the room had his neck craned to see the view revealed by her top. The wand in her hand deterred _their_ hands…but not their eyes. Not that she expected it too.

The first half of the day passed in a "crazy" (Ginny's word) blur of date requests, ogles, dodging people "accidentally" falling into her, professors snapping for attention and more whispers. Lunch was much like breakfast had been except there was more open discussion.

The last class of the day came faster than even the young noblewoman thought it would. Until they stepped through the door, Potions was the only class every student was talking about. She wondered nervously what her lab partner would have to say about her, erm, attire.

But as it turned out, her lab partner was the least of her worries.

Severus swept into the room behind the last student to arrive. He quickly assessed the situation and shook his head. It took only a few strides to stand before the class, the truth of his temper barely concealed behind a disdainful sneer. He spoke slowly and quietly, his voice carrying over their chatter.

"Silence. Although Miss Granger is apparently enjoying putting herself on displaying-" he ignored her hurt expression and the fact that she was now wearing her school robe, "we will still be brewing our potions as always. The instructions are on-" 'the board,' several students mouthed silently- "these pieces of parchment. Each set of partners will make a different part of this potion. I shall inspect at each stage. One person from each table will come up to collect your instructions." There was a momentary flurry as several people hurried to obey. Snape stood waiting, one foot tapping impatiently, scowl deepening with each moment that passed. Harry and Ron sent Hermione, the last one to pick up her instructions.

"These instructions require complete focus," Severus warned. "Do not try to do two things at once. Begin!" he barked when they didn't move but continued to stare at him, wide-eyed. There were the beginnings of whispering at this new and strange method, but the smirks and giggles quickly disappeared when he threatened to hex their throats and lips closed if they made another noise. Some attempts were made to pass magical notes, but this earned each person involved a week's detention and the dubious privilege of reading their note aloud to the rest of the class.

Hermione did her best to keep her mind on the potion, but she was torn between smirking and blushing over the whispers she managed to overhear, not to mention the content of the some of the notes. Fortunately, most of her blushes could be easily explained by the heat their cauldron was generating.

Eventually, out of necessity, everyone more or less got down to work. The Veritaserum was finished in stages, and during the last half hour of class the different parts were combined by the obviously displeased Potions Master. At first he threatened to test it on one of the class, but then he changed his mind.

He watched them pale when he smirked and then blanch when he spoke. "Anyone who has been awarded a week of detention now has the chance to change that by volunteering to test the potion for us. Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, you will also be volunteering. Come forward." A few brave students stepped forward, believing they were picking the lesser of two evils.

Hermione had brewed the most critical part of the potion, since the other segments could be imperfect without any disastrous impact. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Neville, Ron, and Lavender all bravely submitted their attempts at a successful truth potion. And now, thanks to Harry's quick thinking, Hermione was about to take her revenge on them for all.

"Sir, may we choose the question to be asked?" Harry spoke more respectfully than he usually did to Snape, but it was for Hermione's sake. "Since a detention's at stake and all."

The spy stared at the boy, wondering when he had learned manners….and then realized where he was coming from. Deciding to humor him, and further shock his class into conniptions, he nodded. "Yes, Mr. Potter, I'm aware of what they are standing here for. But this once, I will allow one of your less than hair-brained schemes."

Harry shot a sideways glance at Hermione and she smiled her thanks. Nudging her shoulder with his, he thought of the first question.

"Pansy, is it true that you envy Hermione right now? Because she's getting all the attention you think should rightfully be yours?"

"Yes. That bookworm used magic-there's no way she normally looks like that!"

"I _am_ a witch, you know," Hermione said, purposely rolling her eyes in annoyance to get a reaction from Pansy. It had the desired result.

"I know, you Mudbl-"

"Miss Parkinson!" Snape interrupted, his voice like a whip. "The next question will be mine, I think. Crabbe, Goyle-please tell the class what you did to earn a detention."

"We were telling Draco-" They were abruptly silenced when Draco whirled to direct a vicious glare at them, his pale cheeks going an interesting shade of pink. Just then, the bell rang, much to the victims' relief, and Severus reluctantly dismissed the class.

The Gryffindors went back to their tower, the red and black-clad witch leading the group. Hermione flung her books down on the common room table and looked at Ron accusingly, ignoring the other students who trickled in. "Ron, why did you try to grab me this morning?"

"So the Slytherins couldn't." He gave her a look that said she should have known that. For some reason, that expression set her teeth on edge.

"What do you mean?" she bit out through clenched teeth.

"Crikey, Hermione, did you see the way they were looking at you?"

"Of course. Why do you think I did this?"

"For-for them?" he stammered, mouth agape. "But Herm, why?"

"I wanted to. And why do you care, anyway? Don't answer that," she added hastily as he opened his mouth to respond. His mouth shut with an audible snap as he stared at her with obvious hurt.

Turning away from the boys, the young witch quickly made her way to her room and changed into her school uniform…much to the disappointment of her classmates when she reappeared in the common room. Ignoring them all, she wrote a note to her parents and left for McGonagall's office, pretending she didn't hear the whispers that followed her.

A smile played on her lips as she closed the office door behind her. Sitting on large desk was a large cat, one paw resting on a leather pouch. Laughing quietly, Hermione allowed her smile to show as she addressed the Transfiguration Mistress. "I hope this means you liked it. Well, that's good," she added when the cat mowed plaintively.

And it was good…it meant the older woman hadn't taken the magical catnip as a joke. Deep within the Princess, some part of her sighed with relief.

"As was your prank," the other witch quickly said after resuming her human form. Without a thought, she tossed the bag between her hands, eyes on the young woman.

Hermione shifted, nervous of the instinctive knowledge in her emerald eyes. "Yes, well, I assume the Headmaster told you about it last night?"

"Yes…yes, he did. Needless to say, Severus was opposed to the idea."

"As usual," Hermione muttered, wincing when the other woman shook a finger at her.

"Ahh…now Hermione, someday Severus might surprise you. Don't judge him too harshly. Now, am I right in thinking you'd like to Floo to his office?"

"If you wouldn't mind…."

"It's no trouble," Minerva assured her with a gentle smile. She drew Hermione over to the fireplace, threw in a generous pinch of Floo powder, and called, "Severus!" before the brunette student could say a word.

"Yes Minerva?" came his muffled, terse voice in return.

"I was wondering if you had time to help one of the students. She's rather...stuck on a subject," she added. Her smile widened at Hermione's equally incredulous and confused expression.

There was a pause before he sighed and replied, his words dripping resignation. "Yes, send her over."

Shaking her head at her professor's odd ploy, Hermione threw in her own pinch of powder and stepped into the green flames. She waited, brushing soot from her robes.

He looked up, face impassive despite the startle of seeing her standing before him. _I should have known Minerva was up to something, _he thought as he stared at her.

"Would you like me to leave?" she asked quietly.

He sighed once more and set his quill in the shoulder, shaking his head while muttering. "I'm not surprised you can interpret my mood that well… No, I don't want you to leave," he added in a louder voice.

She shifted, correctly guessing the cause of the tension lines across his face. "You do know my little joke wasn't aimed at you, right?"

"Yes…but all the same, now I have to deal with the after-effects." He rubbed his forehead, too weary to feel angry any longer. As he continued, he rose from his chair and headed towards the lab. "I suppose it's a small price to pay to have a silent breakfast."

"I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble," she said sincerely.

"None that was too bad," he admitted after a moment. "Where on earth did you get the idea?" was the amused question that hung between them as he stepped into the creative space that was his—their—sanctuary.

"Harry told something he heard, which I'm sure wasn't all of it…and Ginny helped some. It also helps that I've lived with Muggles, and I've seen the Wizarding world's own 'working' witches," she said, disdain and disgust infusing her last two words.

Severus shook his head as another thought entered his mind, one he refused to give any consideration too.

She watched him and took a step closer. His name rolled off her tongue as she purred the syllables, head tilted as she looked at him. "Severus…."

For a moment, he stared at the mocha eyes which gazed at him with beseechment. Something within him stirred and then howled as he pulled away from the warm hand which was suddenly on his wrist. Deepwithin his mind, he cursed her and himself, cursed the society they lived in and the state of that society. He railed at the fact that he could not and would not ever know what that stirring was, what pulled him to her so strongly. "No," was all he said as he took a step back.

She pouted, never looking away from the dark obsidian orb. "You don't even know what I was going to ask," she said softly. She bit her lip and hung her head, looking at her shoes for a moment before flicking her eyes upward. She gazed at him from under her lashes, silently choking for a moment as _something_ crossed his face too quickly for her to identify.

His eyes narrowed at her coy attempt to charm him. He bit back a bitter retort and swallowed the darkness pulled taut against its chains. "But I do. You want Veritaserum. The answer is no," he added once more at her hopeful expression.

"Severus," she whined softly. She moved closer, her robes brushing…but leaving just enough space that the necessary boundary of student-teacher was not crossed.

"No, Hermione," he snapped, tearing his eyes from hers as he spun. The room, which had seemed so pleasantly cool only moments before, was stifling. "Now stop, we have work to do." Within himself, he praised her acting skills while also gritting his teeth at the fact that it would cost him—all of them—much if she didn't have them.

"Please?" She drew the word out as if she were a spoilt child asking for a treat before supper.

"Hermione, Veritaserum is illegal for a reason. No."

"So is your working on my potions...your point is…_what_, exactly?"

"Hermione, don't do this, please," he said quietly while meeting her eyes, allowing his gaze to say what his lips never would.

Conscience-stricken, she nodded and allowed her expression to become neutral. He took a deep breath and turned away, refusing to think about how she looked with that pout.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked, determined to put the evening back onto a solid footing.

"Since we can't start any experiments yet, you can either grade or make tomorrow's potions for class, while I work on Poppy's supply," he said, his tone matching her own. He moved to the supply closet and shook his head at the school's matron. True to her word, the Medi-witch had given him the seeds…along with a list of special brewing request…on top of the normal stock.

Sometimes he wondered why he indulged his colleagues' requests, he truly did.

"I'll brew the potions," Hermione said after a moment. "You're…kinder…with the grading than I am. Honestly, why would someone think Dragon's Blood is a plant?"

And so began their work, neither speaking other than soft utterances to themselves on occasion. After some time had passed with both of them working in harmony, lifted her head from her work. She took a step closer, regarding him with something akin to curiosity. "Severus, do-oh, never mind."

"What is it?" he asked quietly, slowly lifting his own head to look at her. He watched her start to speak only to smile in what was clearly an attempt to be reassuring. "Nothing, just forget it," was what she said while smiling that same smile. Yet such a comment had and would always be _less_ than reassuring. The unasked question gnawed at him as he saw her turn away and released his breath slowly.

Maybe it was for the best.

The evening passed in relative silence, both of them lost in their own work. Neither noticed when the clock chimed, or did they hear when a voice called from within the sitting room. It wasn't until the lab door opened and a figure stepped through that Hermione wrenched her attention from her work. Catching sight of the previously unnoticed visitor, she raised her wand only to lower it moments later.

"Headmaster!"

"Severus, Hermione. I hope your work is going well."

"It was, until you interrupted us," Hermione snapped without thought. She grimaced and swallowed, trying to slow her racing heart.

"My apologies, but do you have any idea what time it is?"

The young witch shrugged as she turned back to stirring her potion. "Not really. Around nine?"

"Three hours _past_, Hermione," Albus said with a smile.

She sighed and shook her head, refusing to wonder how it had gotten so late. "I need to finish this or Severus won't get any sleep."

"Put it in stasis and I'll finish it once this is bottled," the man in question said from his workbench.

"Severus…that could take you a while. And in the meantime, the spell would begin degrading the potion. It's almost finished. Just another ten minutes," she added when she heard him take a breath to argue.

"You should go to bed now, Hermione, not 'in ten minutes'. That will be an hour from now," he said in his most "you're an idiot if you don't realize that" voice, waving his hand vaguely at the door.

Albus smiled as he watched the exchange, barely holding back a chuckle. He didn't mind being a forgotten spectator if it meant he could see how they interacted.

"Is that all you're going to say?"

"Yes. You need sleep. So go."

"So do you," she argued. "Why should I listen to you? I am an adult and can make my own decisions."

"I am older and I've been brewing longer than you've been alive. And as a spy, I've gone almost a week without sleep; as such, I am accustomed to missing a night of rest. You, however, are not."

"Maybe that's true," Hermione said triumphantly, "but I'm younger and therefore can handle it better than you."

Severus rested his spoon on the table and cast the stasis spell up the cauldron before him, barely holding back the urge to roll his eyes. How she managed to reduce him to such immature gestures of annoyance was beyond his comprehension. "I believe we're done for the night as it is." He looked at Hermione as she copied him. "Why are you insistent?"

"Why not?" was her retort as she faced him. "What is so wrong with wanting to complete something I began?"

"Nothing…except when it may interfere with your health. Go to your room." Without another word he gave her his back, cleaning his work station.

Frustration bubbled within her as she stared at his black-clad figure. Dismissal had never been something she'd tolerated well, especially when it came from someone she respected. The sheer desire to annoy him in return put a whining tone to her voice.

"Severus."

He grit his teeth but otherwise didn't react. Inwardly, he squirmed. The resigned yet pleading way she said his name, the way the second syllable almost faded before completion, tore at him. It had since the first time they began to truly know one another.

Bright blue eyes watched as the world fell away for the two combatants. They were only aware of each other, blind once more to his presence as they delayed their parting.

"No, Hermione," he said quietly. "It's time for you to leave."

She bit her lip and moved a step closer. "Pretty please?"

"No. It's passed twelve…go."

"…really?" she asked in a low voice. Words ceased to matter as she held his eyes, asking more than either dared to say.

Albus looked away for a moment, no longer wanting to watch such an intimate display. Yet as he caught sight of their silent conversation, he knew it was time to intervene. With a loud cough, he returned them to reality…much to their obvious annoyance.

When Hermione stepped back, blushing, he spoke. "If the potion is nearly complete, I see no reason why you cannot finish your work, Miss Sparta. However, I do want to see you in my office in a quarter-hour, mind you- no longer."

"Yes, sir," she said without meeting his eyes, her cheeks still warm from that infernal blush.

Both scientists stared at the door as it closed, resigned, before quickly returning to their work. Somehow, though neither paid much thought to the matter, they finished within five minutes of the Headmaster's departure.

They spent another two minutes cleaning up and finally threw themselves into easy chairs in his office to catch their breath. Both were silent, aware their time was limited.

With a quiet sigh as he questioned his decision, Severus pulled an eyedropper out of his pocket. "I promise you I shall make the remainder of your time at this school a living Hell if anyone learns where you acquired this," he promised with a satisfied smirk as she stared at the dropper.

"Severus…thank you! I swear they won't, you know me better than that," Hermione said quietly. Her eyes slid from the tiny glass dropper to his eyes, nary a thought crossing her mind as she moved closer.

Her hand reached forward, brushing the warm, scarred flesh of his fingers, seeking to take the clear liquid.

Yet rather than take the dropper….

She kissed him.

[-]

[-]

AN: Thanks to my awesome beta for editing this chapter (and all the other chapters that I apparently read and don't fix...) and for suggesting the title.


	18. Winds of Change

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Winds of Change**

Hermione looked up to see the Headmaster sitting at his desk, waiting for her arrival if his demeanor was any indication.

"I assume you are finished?" he inquired mildly.

"Yes, sir, and thank you for letting me stay. Good night, Professor. And, sir, when you see Professor McGonagall, could you tell her that if she wants more of that catnip, she really shouldn't annoy Severus? I've given him and Professor Sprout some, but Professor Sprout's is for teaching. Severus' is for Professor McGonagall, as well as for his potions." She smiled and left him, knowing he knew that she felt Minerva's magic within the vicinity.

Minerva stood before the door which led to their chambers once the young witch left, staring at her husband with a slight pout.

"She's only teasing you," Albus pointed out gently as he stood and made his way towards her.

"Don't tell Severus that," she retorted as she turned on her heel and re-entered their rooms. He extinguished the lights and followed her without another word.

[-]

The next two weeks were completely mad. The new couple worked quickly, setting new personal records. Dumbledore had set a curfew for their brewing; at eleven Hermione was to be out of Severus' lab.

As the days passed, Minerva's happiness for the changes she saw eclipsed her misgivings. "She doesn't seem as stressed," she commented one day upon seeing the young Princess spending time with her friends.

"You've noticed that too, have you?" Albus mused.

"Who wouldn't?" she asked before sighing softly. "You're right, again, Albus. I believe she's found something to feel positive about, even with all the pressure her family's been putting on her."

She looked around at her colleagues, noticing once more that Remus was absent. Yet due to Severus' improvement on the Wolfsbane, the younger wizard was sleeping peacefully through the full moon rather than suffering as he normally did.

"That's not really fair, Minerva." Pomona frowned as she glanced at the clock, all of them waiting for Severus to arrive for the meeting.

"I agree with Minerva," Filius said as he too looked around the room.

"Thank you, Filius," Minerva said.

The quiet buzz of conversation ceased as the door opened, revealing a scowling Severus Snape.

As he made his way to the table, he felt his scowl deepen. Let them wonder as to the cause of his bad mood. None of them had consulted him before the decision had been made. He, the one who was meant to be a main planner in the schools defenses, had been left out of the decision.

All of his _esteemed_ colleagues had decided to let the students go to Hogsmeade on Friday. It was true they needed time to work on the castle's protection, and the absence of third years and above had granted that.

_But who in all of existence had decided letting the majority of the student body outside the walls on a non-Hogsmeade day during a war was__a good idea?!_ He seethed within his own mindas he settled into his chair, staring at his fellow professors.

His anger dissipated a bit as his thoughts drifted to the last few days. He had been working with Hermione to help her rewrite the instructions for the Regeneration potion. As it stood, only a female could make the brew, and both scientists knew such a thing was a great undertaking to change. They (she, if he admitted the truth) had spent much (or all) of their (her) free time changing the brew. Now all that was left was testing.

"Are we ready to begin?" Minerva said briskly, ignorant of his annoyance as his calm thoughts returned to the more troubling topic. "Excellent. I'm pleased, and grateful, to tell you that all the wards are stronger and were replaced faster than ever." Polite applause filled the small pause before she continued.

"Does anyone have any idea what we're going to do?" The faces around the table looked back at her blankly. She made a noise of impatience as she met the eyes of her fellow teachers. "About Miss Granger. She has been instructed to stay near Mr. Potter and the Weasley children. I don't think there's anything we can do for the time being," she added doubtfully when none spoke.

"Albus, why not have her help with the wards?" Pomona suggested as she turned towards the elderly Headmaster.

"Preposterous. She's but a student," Severus said with obvious dismissal, ignoring the emotion within their eyes. They did not, and never would, understand his refusal…nor would he explain it to them.

"Severus, leave well enough alone. She's powerful, even for a top student. She's the brightest witch this school's seen for over two hundred years, after Albus," Minerva added with a smile.

"The Sparta family is rather powerful. Merlin knows she'd be the most powerful in her family," Filius commented, nodding in agreement.

Pomona broke through before the Charms Master could continue. "Speaking of Merlin, you don't think-"

"No!" the Transfiguration Mistress rebuked. Gossip would not be tolerated, especially on such a delicate topic.

"It's possible," the diminutive wizard said with a gleam in his eyes.

"Honestly, you're all acting like children," their spy murmured as his narrowed eyes swept across the group. Internally, he shifted at the thought of the- their- Princess being spoken of in such a disrespectful manner.

The Headmaster and Deputy shared a smile before Minerva nodded. "You are right, Severus, we have work to do," she said. "Albus?"

"I've stated my business. Now it's time for the Head of House reports."

There was little to report, despite the time which had passed since their last meeting. A few students were still talking about Hermione's "prank", which it appeared would go in Hogwarts history.

Severus' patience was wearing thin when Albus said, "I think we should adjourn, unless there's anything else of importance?" Fortunately for those gathered, there was nothing else to discuss. The dark wizard escaped the crowded room before any further words be loosed.

The walk to his lab was a blur as he became lost in his thoughts. He barely registered entering the steam-filled area until she spoke. She never looked up when he entered, and as her words met his ears, he turned his gaze to her.

"Have fun?" she murmured. His snort and quiet muttered reply made her chuckle as she kept her eyes on the potion.

"They seem to think you may be related to Merlin," he offered as he neared her. Her magic pushed against his own as his robes brushed hers.

"That would be nice, seeing as my Potions professor can be a right prick in class. Don't do that, I'd rather not blow us up," she commanded as he ran a finger down her spine. A shiver wracked her and she forced her hand to stay steady as there were only a few stirs left. Two minutes later, she placed the spoon upon the bench and turned to face him.

He met her eyes with his own, admiring her strength and restraint while desiring to see it crumbled. Within moments she was beneath him, their bodies supported by the couch in his sitting room, his mouth pressed demandingly to hers. Her quiet moan shook his fraying self-control as she sank further into the cushions under his weight.

With heaving breath, he pulled away and touched his forehead to hers. He held her golden gaze and gasped a few charms in quick succession. As her shaking hand laid the wooden tool upon the table, he repeated her action before claiming her mouth a second time. When she yielded to his demand and parted her lips, fire scorched him from within.

Neither was sure who broke their tactful, silent agreement to keep their hands upon the others back. As robes and shoes became a pile upon the carpeted floor, she pulled at the tie in her hair. When his hands played with the fastening of her under-robe, she laid her hands gently over his.

The cooler flesh against his own made him stop. His futile attempts to remove the cloth ceased as he raised his head to look at her. "I suppose I…my apolo—"

She placed a slender finger to his chapped lips and shook her head, whispering. "No talking." She allowed him to sit up and curled within his arms, watching the fire. The desire to purr, something which had never left since her second year's escapades, bubbled within her as he stroked her back. She didn't have to explain; he understood her silence.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you want?"

"To stay here, like this, forever," she sighed as she listened to his heart.

"Really, I'm serious," he rebuked quietly after a moment.

She lifted her head and regarded him with curiosity before laying it back down, sighing. "I don't know…for the safety of my family and friends. I want the Wizarding world rid of Voldemort once and for all."

"Let me rephrase that," came the amendment. "What do you want…for you?"

"To live in a world where I don't have to hide my true self, where I don't have to lie about every little thing. A place where we can be together, not stuck in these roles other people have assigned to us. A world where I don't have to put up with the likes of Lucius Malfoy." She spat the last words with vehemence. He chuckled in agreement. "What do you want?" she asked in turn.

"To be rid of the Dark Lord. My desires are similar to yours," he admitted as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. Never had he considered himself an affectionate person, yet this singular young woman inspired feelings within him he had never before thought possible.

"Good, we'll do it together, then."

"Together," he repeated, resting his head on hers.

Silence reined once more as their eyes focused on the flames, though neither saw the dancing element. Both allowed their minds to wander as they enjoyed the peace of simply _being_, simply existing with another person who accepted them for their all.

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"How are we going to do this?"

"Do what?"

"This. Us. We're both living double lives. We-or at least I-have noticed some odd things lately. The rest of the staff, and my family, too, are acting strange…sort of pushing us together, but at the same time trying to keep us apart," she whispered.

"I've noticed too. You must realize that even if the other staff knew of our relationship, it would still be considered inappropriate for a variety of reasons." Severus ran a thumb over her lips as she stared up at him, wishing he could take the pain in her eyes away.

"I know. I-I want this to work….not just for a few weeks and then be tossed aside because I'm…inconvenient." Hermione's admission was nearly silent, yet it hung between them as if she had shouted. Insecurity tore at her heart as she looked away, praying he would not push her aside.

Her words pierced him and stole his voice for several moments. The shadows within his soul writhed with pleasure yet he ignored them, refusing to be the man his masters had made him. "Hermione…" He whispered her name like a prayer and tightened his arms once more, kissing the top of her head.

"I am not a nice man, Hermione. I am not kind. But neither do I enjoy the games you fear. I will do what I must to keep our country, our way of life, safe…but it is not who I am. You are not 'inconvenient', nor are you 'convenient'. You are not an object to be used, but a person deserving my respect and honor…tarnished though it is," he added just to see her smile.

"I just don't want to be hurt," she whispered by way of apology.

"I won't hurt you," he said, knowing she understood he accepted her apology. Allowing himself a moment to drown in her, in the warmth and scent of her, he spoke slowly even as his mind raced. "What brought this on?"

"Just wondering." Without notice, she held him tighter as if he was prepared to flee. Her heart fluttered as she _felt_ the suspicion begin to creep through him.

Frowning, he spoke just as quietly. "Is there something you want to tell me, Hermione?" The speed at which she turned her head to look upon him told him his worries were founded.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Something which has inspired this conviction you will be 'thrown away'?"

"No." The quick denial was much too forceful to be casual and she knew it.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she avoided his gaze. His words were like silk as they rolled off his tongue. "What happened, Hermione? What fractured your confidence?"

The need to leave surged through her, filling her with nervous energy. When she tried to stand and found herself held in place by an iron grip, she opted for turning her body from him. _How dare you!_ she wanted to scream at him. But a lifetime of training forced her to saying nothing of the kind, to display none of her emotion. Instead she asked, "What, pray tell, are you truly asking?"

The regal set of her shoulders and formal words stabbed his heart yet he held firm. "Hermione, you are acting as if there is something to hide. I am merely trying to find out what that may be…it is my nature."

"There's nothing to hide. Can't you leave well enough alone?"

"I cannot," he stated without preamble.

"Let me go."

"I won't. What are you hiding?"

"Nothing, Severus, I swear. Please let me go." Her plea was weak to her own ears and she hated the fear which had crept into her words.

He complied without hesitation, yet not for the reason she presumed. As she put space between them, she noticed he cradled his left arm to his chest and let out a strangled cry. She followed him to his room without thought, anger and fear forgotten.

Hermione stood in the open doorway and watched as he muttered an incantation, wand slicing through the air. A robe and mask appeared before him, as if floating on an invisible hook. Yanking the robe on, he hung the mask around his neck and concealed it beneath the heavy cloth.

It wasn't until he turned to leave that he noticed her standing in the doorway.

Standing there, honey-brown eyes filled with too much emotion to describe, worry upon her beautiful face. The heavy robes upon his shoulder became a shield, hiding the truth of his spirit as sure as the school uniform hid hers. As his Occlumency walls began to rise, he fought with the Death Eater that was his other, ill-begotten half. It longed to rip those sad, worried eyes from her skull and tear her still kiss-swollen lips with its teeth.

"Contact the Headmaster. Tell him I'll be back as soon as I can." He left before she could speak, all but running from the castle once he knew he would not be seen.

[-]

Without hesitation, Hermione made her way to Albus' office only to be told what she had two weeks before. Rather than returning to her rooms and fretting uselessly, she once more returned to Severus' chambers. With a steady hand, she worked on the grading they both so despised. As her eyes drifted to the dying flames, she wondered what was so important he had been summoned during the day.

[-]

[-]

AN: I'm back...well, until work and school gets chaotic again!


	19. Saving Grace

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Saving Grace**

As his boots crunched through the snow, pounding the thick layer of ice crystals into hard chunks, Severus fought within himself. The desire to know the truth, to know what had caused Hermione's insecurity and evasion nearly consumed him despite his determination to give her the privacy they both craved so dearly. But...now wasn't the time to think of it.

As the gates loomed before him, he allowed the last visage of his mind to shift. The veils and walls of his Occlumency became an enforcement of his person, the mental embodiment of his robes. The mask of Professor fell away as a sneer twisted his lips.

His Apparition to the cave was nearly silent. He bowed before the Dark Lord, baring throat to the one man who had earned such a right. "My Lord," he murmured respectfully.

"Sssssevvverussss. How did the sssstrengtttthhhening go?"

"It went well enough, my Lord. The wards are stronger and this means they will fall with more ease, leaving little trace behind."

"Exccccellent." Red orbs became slits of liquid ruby as they fell upon the loyal spy. "I have been informed that the Mudblood made a visit home."

"Yes. I was unaware of such a thing until after she arrived back that night, Master."

Voldemort narrowed his scarlet eyes further and studied the bowing man, bone-white fingers drumming silent upon the arm of his throne.

Deepwithin his mind, far beyond the reach of even his conscious persona, some part of him begged the Fates for mercy…for the reptilian wizard to not delve within his last safe haven.

"It's been almost two weeks. Tell me where she went."

Head bowed further, he admitted his failure without hesitation. He had observed the pathetic Mudblood for weeks, but "I have yet to obtain the location of her home, Sire. I did not think it relevant."

The already narrowed eyes became slits of rage. "What of the other sssstudentssss?"

"They were allowed a day in the village, though the Headmaster did not tell myself or the staff until moments before his announcement. When I left, my Lord, they were still in Hogsmeade."

"Exxxccellent. Knott!" The loud _crack_ of Apparition rent the air as the Summons was answered.

"Master."

"Knott, I want you to go to Hogsssmeade. Watch the ssstudentss. Do not attack. If you see Potter, report to me _immediately_."

"Yes, Sire," Knott said with blind obedience before Disapparating.

Voldemort turned his attention once more to his most trusted and useful spy, his displeasure obvious. "You are to find the location of the Mudblood's home. Report back here when you do. You are dismissed," he added in an afterthought as the Potions Master bowed even lower.

Severus left the cave as quickly as possible, unwilling to upset his Lord further. Thankful he had escaped unscathed, and reluctant to return to the prison of a school so soon, he opted to explore the surroundings.

Minutes passed as he began searching the area. The further he delved from the cave, the easier it was to feel the ancient magic around him. Shedding his heavy robes and mask for his more casual attire, in case he was spotted, he continued walking. Twenty minutes later, the sight of a familiar mountain cracked his walls. Staring at the scene for several moments, he allowed himself to process the sight before Apparating to the school, heart pounding with the implications.

Ruthlessly suppressing the Death Eater he had long ago become, he slipped through the gates and ran to the castle as quickly as he could without being seen. The maze of corridors barely slowed him as he made his way to the Headmaster's office, gasping the password when within sight of the gargoyle. He took the revolving stairs two at a time and entered the office without knocking.

"Severus," Albus said quietly, not at all surprised at his rushed entrance. To be called mid-day would always mean urgency for a report.

Before the normally taciturn man could speak, a polite little cough sounded from behind him. Turning slowly, Severus watched as Minister Fudge emerged from the depths of an armchair which faced the Headmaster.

Biting back a sneer, he tilted his head in respect. "Minister," was his only greeting before he faced his employer once more. "Headmaster, there is much we need to discuss."

"Surely it can wait, Professor. The Headmaster and I are almost finished," the Minister said jovially, ignorant of (or simply ignoring) the Darker wizard's tone

Giving the Minister the same respect he had been given, Severus met Albus' eyes. "Albus, I completed your request. On my way back to the castle, I happened upon an aspect of that surprise which you had planned during the holiday." The older man froze as his spy's implications and memories raced through his mind. He never looked away from the shaken Death Eater as he addressed Cornelius.

"Minister, I will owl you with my decision," Dumbledore said with firm finality. Without another word, the door opened as the stairs began their descending rotation. Brushing aside his confusion, and unwilling to cause himself more trouble by delaying what sounded to be an important discussion, the Minister left with a hasty goodbye.

Albus secured the office from eavesdropping as he leant forward, eyes grave with this new knowledge.

"What did you see Severus?" he asked quietly.

"The Dark Lord continues to move in an erratic pattern, there's no logic I could find to make sense of his locations. The current cave he dwells is…" He trailed off and looked away for the briefest moment, unable to believe the location was a coincidence. "Albus…within a twenty minute walk I was staring down the mountains which faced Sparta Castle.

"He also knows the students are in Hogsmeade. Knott has been sent to observe them and report back, though orders were given to not attack. The Dark Lord is also aware of Hermione's visit home…and I have been ordered to find the location of this home."

Without looking at the older man, Severus paced in a rare show of agitation before turning to the wall. His fist sliced through the air and slammed into the unforgiving stone, the cracking of more fragile bone a balm to his war-tore psyche. Blood seeped from the cuts upon his knuckles as momentary numbness overtook the pain in his arm.

Albus hissed as he raised from his chair. His calm façade shattered as he saw his spy slowly begin to lose control. "Severus!"

"I'm fine," the black haired man whispered as his employer neared. "Better than Their Majesties, if anyone learns of where they live."

"No one shall, Severus, rest assured. Tell him her parents are out of country on vacation. There's a Muggle home we've had ready for just for this sort of occasion. And as for the students, they are safe enough. The Order has been stationed throughout the village along with plain-clothes Aurors." Catching the fleeting emotion within those obsidian eyes, Albus lowered his voice. "The wards on the school will protect Miss Sparta well enough. I do think we should bring her up here though."

Turning his back to the younger man, he quickly riffled through the numerous drawers within his desk. Parchments, quills, odd bobbles and various hard candies fell to the floor before he pulled out a charmed Galleon. His thumb rubbed over the raised ruins as he murmured an incantation before saying, "Miss Granger, you are needed in my office. It's urgent."

"Yes, Headmaster," came Hermione's disembodied voice. "It will take me but a moment." There was the sound of papers being shuffled.

"Where are you?" he wondered aloud.

"Sev-Professor Snape's sitting room. I was grading parchments."

Both men frowned and Severus snorted while Albus spoke. "I said…no, it's too late now. Come quickly. I'm about to contact your family." Hermione made a noise between a gasp and a squeak. They could hear her running footsteps in the moment before the coin went silent.

With an amused shake of his head, Albus lowered the protections on the office door and made his way to his cabinets. Searching through the items which had fascinated Harry during so many of his visits, he selected two and set them on the desk as Hermione walked in.

Panting softly from exertion, the young witch looked between the two wizards. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly, eyes darting between their dour expressions.

"Calm down, Hermione," Severus said just as quietly, drawing her attention. He grimaced as she noticed his hand. He dismissed her whispered inquiry with an equally quiet "nothing of importance."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Albus smiled slightly as he watched the world fall away around them. "He took his frustrations out on the poor wall, Miss Sparta. As you can see, the wall did not appreciate such."

Hermione shook her head as she turned back to Severus, holding his gaze. "Honestly, Severus…what did punching the wall solve?" He didn't get a chance to respond, as the Headmaster urged them into action.

Severus watched with hooded eyes as the other wizard asked the waiting witch to cast protection spells. As the monarchs appeared within the wide fireplace with a few mumbled words from the elder man, he tilted his head in greeting.

Barely registering Albus' lack of formality, he took note of the seating arrangements without looking away from the brunette. The feel of strong magic surrounding the office began to expand outward to cover the school.

...and all of it came from the magnificent woman standing in the middle of the office.

"You have never witnessed her power," he heard Agamemnon comment. The direction of the Grand King's voice said he was speaking to him, yet he never looked away. "We have always said Hermione would prove to outrank us in magic someday."

"And I have every expectation that she will soon surpass our skills," Helen added.

"She's almost equal to me, Severus," Albus said quietly, knowing his spy could hear. "Just watch." Obsidian eyes continued to gaze upon the young woman. An aura of power radiated off her, giving her an ethereal appearance as her voice rose in a mystical song.

When she fell silent and turned to face them, he extended a hand without a thought. For once, his mind was silent as he saw only her. The feel of her warm hand sliding along his palm quickened something within him, as if she was entrusting him with her very existence. The knowledge that she had called down the ancient magics which protected the castle and changed them to hide her family….

It scored him, fueling a thirst he hadn't known existed before that December night.

He led her to her chair, feeling every second as if he were a knight of old leading his Lady to her throne. Only once she was settled did he take a seat of her own, never realizing his hand had yet to release hers. His eyes finally left her to face the others.

There was a momentary silence as the very air around them hummed with words unspoken. The pillars of the very wizarding world watched the Heir Apparent and their darkest yet most trusted spy. None questioned her hand within hers, nor his angled position beside her. He had chosen to protect her, even from them.

Something which was necessary, they unfortunately admitted deep within themselves.

"What is your news, Albus?" Leda asked quietly, breaking the silence. Brown eyes met blue as she silently told him to tell all, begged him without words to say her worst fears hadn't become real.

To her relief, they hadn't. As the words of Severus' discovery fell from his lips, the Headmaster watched his oldest friends. They were agitated by this knowledge, but not fearful.

"What now?" Hermione asked quietly when he fell silent.

Albus turned to Agamemnon at her words. "If I may, I'd like to assume the role of Secret-Keeper for the five of you, just in case."

Meeting his friend's eyes, Agamemnon frowned. "It's dangerous."

"Then consider it the return of a favor," Albus said, the twinkle back in his eye.

The Grand King smiled and chuckled softly as he nodded. "Very well, old friend." Together they made their way to the center of the room and knelt. "Who will act as our bonder? Leda?"

"I'd be honored," she said quietly as she neared the two men.

Forming a Secret-Keeper bond was much the same as making an Unbreakable Vow. Hermione knew this intellectually, but as the process happened, she couldn't help but lean forward in her chair to watch.

"I, Agamemnon Sparta, entrust you, Albus Dumbledore, with the location of our home. I entrust you with our safety."

"I, Albus Dumbledore, accept your trust."

"I, Leda Mycenae, hereby place this information in your hands, Albus Dumbledore, and deem you our Secret-Keeper," Leda said as she held her glowing wand above the Headmaster's head. Once the glow faded, she sheathed the wooden conductor and offered the men a hand up.

With much creaking of knees, the two old men rose, using each for support like school boys…and grinning at the witch before them as she rolled her eyes. "Now, as the school is empty and proper protections are in place, perhaps we are entitled to a quick walk and a nice little visit," Albus suggested as he brushed his robes clean.

"Yes, I think that could be done. Maybe we could even visit some of our old haunts," Leda said as she gazed at her husband. When he nodded in agreement, she smiled and kissed his cheek.

Severus spoke with each person in turn before standing in the shadows to watch. He listened to their light, idle chatter, their happiness and excitement clear despite the war which threatened their home…their lives. He envied them for that, envied their ability to live in the pleasure of the moment.

As his focus narrowed once more to wrap around the youngest woman in the room, he began to understand how they could have that ability. Something about her made him think of the current moment, if only for a few seconds. But as the others left the office and left them alone, as her golden-brown eyes met his and narrowed, he realized she was not thinking of the current moment.

She was still angry.

Spinning on her heel, she turned and walked down the spiral stairs, following the voices of her family and Headmaster.

He trailed behind her, wondering where this sudden _need_ for her approval and forgiveness came from. Probably the same place as the desire to pin her against the wall and make her eyes glow for another reason, he reasoned to himself with an internal smirk. [**Heh…**]

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I…I should have trusted your word," he admitted quietly as he walked beside her.

"Yes, you should have. What I would like to know is why you thought it necessary to interrogate me like a common criminal," she demanded. He sighed, knowing she deserved the truth, knowing he _owed_ to her, yet despising the utterance of his moment of…insecurity…earlier.

"I do trust you. I thought…you trusted me too. Your defensiveness put me on guard. I _have_ to know, it's what I do. For a moment, I forgot I don't need _your_ secrets."

She looked at him before shaking her head, knowing he could see the shadows which stirred in her eyes, the echo of pain upon her face. "Just…don't do it again."

They came to a stop as they met up with the others on the ground floor. Helen's voice drifted to them as they made their way to the others.

"Thank you, Albus, for being our Secret-Keeper and trying to ensure our safety. It would be nice to see the grounds again..."

"The students won't return until shortly before dinner, I see no reason why we cannot venture outdoors," Albus responded.

And outside they went. Into the sunny, damp day, they cast charms to repel water and keep them warm. Mud and snow slid free of their boots and clothes as they stepped onto the sodden earth.

Neither Hermione or Severus were sure how they ended up walking to the lake alone. Yet as they stared at the frozen water, they didn't care. When she asked if he knew how to ice skate, he merely smirked and stepped onto the ice. Wand concealed within his cloak, he transfigured his boots to skates and pushed off.

She followed him, laughing merrily and suggesting a race. He didn't speak, only pushed off once more and headed for the far shore. She caught up despite his longer legs only to skate around him. Shocked, he stumbled and pulled her to him. "Wench."

"Witch," she correctly softly as they came to a stop. The sight of his wind-burned face made her smile.

"Witch," he amended as he lowered his head to hers. "An insufferable one at that."

"It's one of my better qualities," she whispered.

"One of them," came his quiet agreement as their breaths mingled.

A gentle winter wind rippled through the trees and across the lake, blowing a soft dusting of snow around them. The frozen flakes swirled around them like autumn leaves upon a cleansing gust, blurring the sight to any who looked on.

But as their lips met and his arms tightened around her, as her breath warmed his cheeks and her gloved hands held him close, they noticed only each other.

[-]

"They are their own salvation," Albus said quietly to himself as he turned away from the sight.

"What are you going to do about this?" Leda asked quietly as the small group continued on with their journey.

He patted her arm and met her worried eyes with a smile. "Whatever do you mean? I saw nothing but sun reflecting off the ice, my friend."

"Ah, yes, maybe that's it," she replied with a smile. Her arm laced tighter through Agamemnon's as they headed back to the warm castle.

[-]

[-]

AN: I, due to the wisdom and intelligence of StoryTeller Lore, have decided to rewrite this story. Gulp! The main plot will stay the same, and I have a short list of major events to keep. But when I skimmed through the story as a whole, I was...well, disgusted and disheartened. There's no way I can feasibly rewrite something I wrote in 2006/2007. I also took down TMB since I'm going to eventually rewrite that too.


	20. People Like Us

**Chapter Seventeen**

**People Like Us**

Their jaunt in the snow left them cold and wet despite the charms they had cast. As Hermione brushed melting flakes from her hair, she watched Severus all but run into his chambers. Chuckling, she stomped her boots and riffled through her work robes that were in the lab. Maybe she shouldn't have shoved that handful of snow down his shirt….

Pulling the only set of spare clothes from under the doors, she made her way to his bedroom door. Rapping her knuckles, she called his name loudly.

"What?" came the muffled question.

"Do you have a separate bathroom?"

"Why can't you use the one beside the lab?"

"There's not enough room!"

Ignoring what sounded like loud mutterings, she waited, tapping her foot. The door opened to reveal the dark-haired man. She smiled as he merely stepped around her and pointed to the open door. "Hurry, before your family sends one of the ghosts."

She kissed his cheek before entering the room. Though she longed to see his sanctum, she shook her head, closed the door and changed as quickly as possible. Barely resisting the urge to gawk at the room around her, she reentered the sitting room. Shutting the door behind her, she reached for his hand.

He took her hand and gently pulled her to him. The feel of her warm, soft body pressed against his was calming. Closing his eyes, he laid his cheek on her head for a moment. For just a moment, a bare moment…

Fate was cruel, and would not give them that moment.

The fire flared to life, green flames dancing merrily in the grate. "Severus? Are you there?"

Closing his eyes tighter and wishing the old man away, he sighed. "Yes."

"Can you come to my office?"

_Is there really a choice?, _both Hermione and Severus wondered.

"I'll be there shortly."

The flames died, leaving nothing but a quickly cooling hearth. Severus released his breath and stood, pulling away from her. "We should go."

Her heart broke to see him raise those walls, to hide from even her. Nodding, she took a shuddering breath and dropped his hand. They walked in silence from his rooms to the Headmaster's office, barely giving the empty school any mind.

She stepped onto the revolving staircase before him, closing her eyes as his warmth cocooned her. The urge to lean back and have his arms wrapped around her, to bury herself within his robes and strength nearly overwhelmed her. But as the stairs slowly came to a halt, she opened her eyes and returned to reality. She couldn't do that, not here, not anywhere. All they had were stolen moments that they pretended didn't exist.

They weren't enough.

And as she stepped into the round office, she knew those illicit moments never _would_ be enough.

Her mind closed around those thoughts like nightshade at dawn. Hidden within the folds of her consciousness, masked from the speculative and bemused witches and wizards before her, her love and anger slept. They taunted her with their back-handed approval, mocked her with their smiles and quiet chuckles.

Yet as a hand pushed gently on the small of her back to move her from the doorway, it all melted away. None of it mattered as long as he was there.

"You called?" Severus drawled sardonically as he shut the door.

"Yes, I did," Albus said as he looked over his spectacles at the young couple. He didn't miss the emotions which had flashed within the young witches' eyes when she gazed on them. Something within him recoiled from the darkness he had glimpsed, from the truth even her family did not want to acknowledge at times.

Shaking his head, he nodded to the royal family sitting by the fire. Their voices were low, gazes darting between each person in the room. He knew words were not necessary as they turned and made their way to the group.

The couple sat, paying little attention to Albus as he settled himself at his desk. Hermione's eyes calmly met those of her family, waiting…waiting to see what would go wrong _now_. Now that she was happy, that life was moving forward, that _their side_ was gaining the upper hand.

Helen smoothed her robes and leaned back in her chair, observing her only child. She knew that wary look well, having worn it herself many times over the years. Her heart ached for her daughter, knowing the suspicion that had grown with her over the years…the suspicion _they_ had knowingly fostered.

For her own good, or so they'd said.

Yet….

As she looked at her daughter, she wondered how many other things they had been wrong about. The way Severus had silently declared their Heir within _his_ protection from even them…it made her wonder.

"Hermione," she said firmly. "We…we believe it's time to enlighten Messers Potter and Weasley."

Shock radiated through Hermione as she stared at her mother. This…was not what she expected to hear. She wasn't sure _what_ she had expected, but it wasn't this.

"Pardon me?"

"We believe it is time to tell Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, Hermione," Helen repeated.

"Why now?"

For a moment, few dared breathe as they contemplated the question. _Why _now? What was different about today that wasn't there yesterday or last month? None of them truly trusted the boys, though Albus had more confidence than anyone. Hermione knew that of the two, Harry was more likely to remain steadfast than Ron.

"With Tom's close proximity, there is little time to waste. We knew this day would come. It's time for us to take more of an active role," Menelaus answered as quietly as his wife had.

For just a moment, Severus bit back a sneer of disgust. They were needed during the _first_ war. Yet as he looked at the small but powerful family, he could understand why they had remained hidden. It wasn't just to protect themselves…it was for the entire wizarding world. So few believed in the royals to begin with, and for them to emerge as the Dark was rising once more…. They could only do what was strategic, he reminded himself. They were not laypeople starting a rebellion, they were a handful of witches and wizards charged with protecting and governing a nation.

How big was their kingdom anyway?

The thought made his anger fade as he contemplated the few tidbits he had gathered. A sharp pain radiating through his calf drew his attention back to the conversation at hand. Blinking, he resisted the childish urge to stomp Hermione's foot in return.

"…public within the near future." Agamemnon sat back in his chair as he finished speaking, looking his age. "You also need more protection."

_Wait…what?_

Blinking several times, Hermione tilted her head and met her grandfather's eyes. "I don't understand. Harry is well-trained, this is true. But…grandfather…he's only a teenager. What protection can he offer?"

"Another set of eyes, my child. You need people who can help keep watch, people who won't seem out of place."

Leda rested a hand on his arm, understanding the conversation was going nowhere fast. "Hermione…it's up to you to tell them. But the fact remains that we will be returning to the public soon. There are already those who wish you harm."

Muttering to herself, the young witch sighed before nodding. They were right. She hated it, but they were right. Harry (and Ron) could watch her back better than she could. By the gods how she hated it. She cared for her friends, but….

They could be so immature at times!

The same thoughts ran through Severus' head as he tried to understand their logic. Oh, on the surface it made sense. But no strategist worth their wand would recommend such a narrow-minded plan. And he knew that above all else, the people in the room were just as shrewd, cunning and manipulative as him. What could they possibly gain by—

That was it.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he regarded the four elder monarchs. His thoughts whirled as his respect and appreciation for their methods rose.

It wasn't _what_ they could gain.

It was _who_.

"You want Harry Potter."

It wasn't a question.

Calm expressions fell away to reveal wary acknowledgement. The air hummed and grew thick with power, all eyes on him. Assessing, questioning, determining.

"Severus?" Albus questioned silently as he stood.

The dark wizard raised a hand, halting his employer, defying one of his masters. He met Agamemnon's eyes then Leda's. Their son and daughter-and-law were much like them…but only Hermione could truly match them. He knew they knew he understood that.

"As much as I may not like the boy," he said in a low, smooth voice, his disdain wrapped within subtle sarcastic respect, "I will not see an underage student become a pawn. He can do whatever he wishes upon his seventeenth birthday, but until then, _no one_ will hold sway."

"We already do," Leda countered, head held high. "Or rather, Albus does."

"Yes….and through him, so do you."

"No one is recommending he be sacrificed." Helen's strong words drew their attention, breaking through the brewing tension. "We want to know where he is."

"No," Severus drawled, "You want keep him on your side, whatever side that may be. I am a spy, Your Highness, not an illiterate fool. Let us be frank. You want Harry Potter much like you want Draco Malfoy, Ginevra Weasley, Remus Lupin and many others. They may or may not fight with the Order. But you are not the Order."

His lips pulled back into a smile of appreciation. "Many of the students in this building are fools, ignorant of what will happen to them when they leave these walls. And as much as I wish never to lay eyes on them again, they are _children_. Your Majesties, I respect you and your authority. I have done much in this war, things which would require my death if they ever came to light. But I only serve two Masters. Neither of them are any of you.

"I will not allow any child within this castle to become chess pieces in this game you, Albus and the Dark Lord insist on playing. That includes Harry Potter."

Tense silence reined as all sat, still as stone. The clock ticked away the seconds, none breathing as they waited. Power burned within their bodies, shaking them from the inside. Fingers twitched and palms itched as they leashed their tempers.

And as a single person drew in a sharp breath, the spell broke.

None thought, only reacted. The world narrowed as the lines were drawn, their movements beyond instinctive.

Chairs scraped across the wooden floor as they all stood. Danger coated the walls as Helen and Menelaus flanked Leda and Agamemnon. The windows reflected only candlelight as Albus stood to the side and just in front of Severus. As dancing shadows coated the walls and ceiling, Severus wrapped a hand around Hermione's wrist and pulled her slightly behind him.

Not a single one of them drew their wands.

Breathing hard, they stared at one another.

The head figure of the Light, with his ice-blue eyes and hard expression, kept the most lethal of his forsworn in his place. There, but unable to act without command. The obsidian blade trembled under such restraint but obeyed the silent order.

With narrowed eyes, the highest of Command stood beside his other half, their inaction keeping their seconds in the chain from stepping forward. They stood beside them, prepared, but waiting for the signal to act.

None were willing to back down, but with each beat of their hearts, the phoenix slowly quelled under the dragon's gaze. But as movement was caught from the corner of his eyes, he spread his wings and stood tall once more

Under all of them, but separate from each, the young Huntress stepped forward. Bending when needed, she refused to be tamed by those around her. Her eyes darted to her parents and grandparents, with their raw power and protective determination. Then her gazes slide to the Headmaster, who radiated similar power and just as much strength. She refused to look at the man beside her, knowing it would only add fuel to the roaring flames around her.

"Enough! Severus, sit down. Albus, back away. Mother, father, stand down, grandmother, grandfather, calm!"

"Hermione-"

"No!" she hissed. "We are at war with Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters, _not_ each other. Sit. Down. Everyone."

They sat. All reluctant, all vibrating with emotion…but they sat.

She took several deep breathes, ignoring the voice in her head that told her to stir their wrath and let them end each other.

"Severus, no one's going to use Harry. No one. Not Albus, not my family, not you, not Tom, not the Order. He's young, but so I am. He's smart, but he lacks confidence." Her eyes slowly moved around the group, pinning each person to their seat as she let her words sink in. "This war is against those who want to destroy our world. We're going to do things we regret, going to kill, going to hurt others. But we will _not_ become as vile as the people we fight!

"I will tell Harry and Ron, since you all seem to think it's such a good idea. I will bind them to secrecy. But who they fight for and against is their choice. End of discuss."

"Bu—"

"End. Of. Disussion."

And as they all stared at the fire in her eyes, the hard set of her jaw, they knew it was the end of the discussion.

For now.

[-]

[-]

AN: *looks innocent* So...what do you think?

And yes, I called Severus Albus' "forsworn".


	21. Chains and Cages I

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Chains and Cages (I)**

Her body thrummed in time with her pulse as she considered what just happened. Shock strummed through her veins when her mind finally caught up with her actions. The need to flee reared within her, branding her spirit with shame.

What had she _done_?

Severus considered the question as he watched those around him through hooded eyes. He paid little mind to Leda quietly asking Albus to summon the boys, that was not important. No, what mattered to him—and what utterly fascinated him, truth be told—was the nearly hidden emotions playing within Hermione's eyes. Shame, fear, guilt, anger, defiance, grief and then elation all cycled in a dizzying whirlwind of feeling.

She had fractured the power structure of her very world, and he loved her for it.

He knew she was too shocked to fully understand what she had done. The realization of the action itself was still hitting her, and would be for some time. But as the barest hint of a smirk twisted his lips upward, he allowed himself to revel in what had just happened.

Albus had been brought to heel. Though he was still tied to the Headmaster, still bound to his will in regards to this infernal struggle between the Order and Dark Lord, the older man had been put in his place.

The eldest monarchs had been reminded their power was limited to their realm, and only to be exercised in rare circumstances until they returned to the public eye. Leda and Agamemnon were no doubt still reeling.

Menelaus and Helen had been mostly silent, which surprised yet also intrigued him. They too had been reminded of their current circumstances, but something upon the Queen's face told him she was aligning with her daughter.

And Hermione…

Forcing himself to breathe slowly, he strengthened the walls around his mind. For once, the Dark which had been corrupted by his Lords did not crave her blood, her pain. It sat calmly, if a bit puzzled, beside the neutral, self-serving man and simply…observed her.

He turned his attention inward to inspect the chains which bound him together. Hot fire and blinding lightning tore through his soul, separating it while wrapping around each piece. Powerful magics from powerful men claimed him, binding him, tethering him to causes he no longer believed in. He had learned through the years, through all they demanded of him, that neither was right. The middle-ground lay outside of them, away from the two extremes.

The calmness which greeted him gave him pause. The middle-ground lay outside his Masters and their beliefs, away from all they had fought for. As he stared at the bindings which had defined him for so long, he knew the reason why his being was not fighting those sentient restrictions.

_Her_.

She was the line, the one who could do what the rest of them could not. She was the one who could see both sides and beyond, who could comprehend what they had been blind to for so long. She was the future, with her new ideas and simple acceptance of both worlds. She had the authority and political pull to do it. She had the _power_.

_And she had chosen him_. The knowledge sent a shiver through him, rattling his world as surely as she had just upended her own. His death was no longer certain…his life was no longer going as planned.

Pulling himself back to his body, back to the _outside_, he felt that same stirring which had been happening for weeks. It reached out, begging, searching, determined to make him accept her as his. But he wouldn't, not now, now yet.

It wasn't time.

She was too new to what was waking within her, too unsteady of her place. Until she realized who she was, _what_ she was, and what she was doing…what she _would_ do…he couldn't take her as his. Not fully, not like everything within him demanded.

He was a man, he admitted to himself as he watched her study the fire. He would not to deny that, had never done such. But as he crossed his ankles and linked his fingers on his lap, he acknowledged he was more than a man. They all were.

Magic always came with a price.

Albus, with his nearly aloft optimism, was much like Agamemnon and Tom. They remembered _too_ clearly, had minds _too_ sharp. Helen, Leda, Minerva, all women with strong magic, great responsibility and some would say _canny_ abilities. There were squibs with no magic but who could do things the average wizard couldn't. It wasn't just magic, it was the _being_. Magic was the catalyst, the enabler.

Magic was energy, pure, neither light or dark. It simply…existed. All humans could access it, but not all could _use_ it. It wasn't only genetics (though that played a large part), but the spirit…the soul. It was the soul, the thing which made a person a _person_ that allowed magic to flow. Not the strength of the soul, but the make-up. There had to be a precise balance within it, that exact formula that created the perfect blend.

But that magic, that ability many desired more of, changed them. It drew forth what philosophers called the inner child, what psychologists titled id, what scientists labeled the primal. Whatever it was, it honed the instincts of the animal within them, the parts of them which had allowed the evolution of homo sapiens_._

It was this which made then _more_ than men and women, but also more than beasts. It wasn't the extent of magical capacity, but how much they explored it. Remus, though considered "weaker" magically than someone like Filius, would always be the stronger man. The wolf within him demanded it, made him face the worst of himself and conquer it.

His own life had made him bare the most hidden parts of his being to himself. Long ago had he embraced the darkness within him…and as time passed, he came to accept what the men who controlled it had created from that darkness. It wasn't bad or evil by nature, simply heavier, baser. It was destruction and anger, passion and the selfishness of survival. Light demanded justice, dark craved vengeance. It was two sides of the same coin, different facets of a single person.

And the woman beside him….

Swallowing at the memory of the taste of her mouth, of her skin, he closed his mind to regain control of his thoughts.

She was just waking, only now starting to grow within the power she had obviously explored. But she was a _goddess_.

And she was his.

[-]

Hermione blatantly ignored her family as she regarded Severus. The way he had stared at her for the last twenty minutes had her wondering what was going through his head. When he finally met her eyes, she raised an eyebrow in question. His answering smirk only made her roll her eyes.

Sometimes she wondered why she liked the man, she really did.

[-]

Green eyes roamed long-familiar corridors, tracing the walls as his feet tread the memorized path. Momentarily ignoring the wizard beside him, Harry allowed his thoughts to wander.

What could be so important that the Headmaster would send Fawkes to Hogsmeade?

Rubbing his head to stem the on-coming headache, he exhaled sharply. He knew without searching the link that Voldemort had been told of his disappearance. The other students were spending the last half-hour in the village before making their way back.

"Did you notice Snape wasn't there?" Ron's voice grated on his ears, slicing through the deafening thudding of his heart.

"Yeah."

"Where do you think he's at?"

"Probably holed up in the dungeons," Harry mumbled as pain radiated through his skull and rushed down his spine. Anger became the electrical current which paralyzed him from the inside out.

The Headmaster didn't know what he had learned. The Potions Master couldn't understand that he saw. The Order wasn't aware of the fight he raged.

It was there, all of it. Every act, every thought, every memory. The things he had seen, had learned, had done. The simple connection which had tied their destinies had grown. It wasn't a mere thread within the fabric of fate, but was now a vital section. The tapestry of their lives had been interwoven for too long.

The dreams had started earlier than they knew, and after Sirius' death they had become _more_. No longer was it dreams and manipulations, now they were within each other's minds.

They were the other.

…_and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives._

Exist, live, survive…he'd learned how relative those words were. To exist and survive was like a starved, beaten dog crawling in the dirt to reach a puddle. It _existed_, it _survived_. But the same dog, if it ran around fetching sticks and chasing owls…that was living.

Didn't they understand he had died? Didn't they realize their souls had touched within that brief moment, merging what had been separate?

Voldemort had wanted him dead because of the prophecy. _Had_. After that day, it wasn't about the words anymore. A soul halved is a soul weak. The Horcruxes had weakened the reptilian wizard, but the connection had renewed him. The prophecy was null and Voldemort knew it.

By _making_ him his adversary, Riddle had tied them together in ways most didn't know existed. They shared all.

"Harry?"

Shaking his head, ignoring the grim truth, Harry looked at Ron. "What?"

"Do you know the pas—"

The gargoyle moved before Ron could complete his question, allowing them entrance. The boys shared a look before Harry stepped onto the staircase, hiding a shiver as another wave of pain wracked him. As they neared the door, he folded the bond upon itself, collapsing it and ending the pain.

"You ok mate?"

Ron watched his friend sway as the color drained from his face. He knew Harry was lying when he said "fine", but he wasn't Hermione. He wouldn't push.

The door opened and they stepped in, shivering despite the warmth. Something about the room set them on edge. Fawkes thrilled quietly on her perch, greeting the young wizards.

"You called for us Headmaster?" Harry asked as the phoenix's notes soothed his nerves. He looked around and blinked in shock at what he saw.

Hermione.

Beside Snape.

With four other people.

Albus smiled at the students and nodded, returning their attention to him. "I did. Harry…Ron…you both have expressed your desire time and time again to be more informed, more involved in the fight against the Darkness. You aren't quite old enough to join the Order, but it has been decided that you are mature enough to be privy to knowledge few hold."

Severus rolled his eyes and deftly moved his leg outside range of Hermione's heavy shoes. The blue-eyed wizard was rotting his brain with those damned lemon drops if he thought anyone bought what he just said. Well…anyone but the hot-tempered redhead-he would believe anything.

"Headmaster?" Harry looked between the group and the standing wizard, suspicious.

"Come, both of you." Albus motioned for them to follow as he rounded the desk and made his way to the seated family. Back to the children, he gave Severus a hard look.

With nary a twitch, the Potions Master rose on command, silently sighing in relief when the pressure on his mind released. He didn't look at the other man but focused on the boys behind him, wondering why this task had fallen on _him_ when Albus was the Secret Keeper, liaison and emissary.

Then again…he _was_ the commanded. Did it matter why either Master gave an order, so long as he obeyed?

"Potter, Weasley," he said softly. Only when their eyes turned to him and emotion flared across their faces did he continue. "Despite my protests, you've been deemed…competent…enough to handle the information you are being given."

Harry met those obsidian eyes, pushing past his anger and disgust. _Something_ dwelt within Snape's eyes, something hidden much like his own self was hidden. He was warning them, but also…sorry for them? No, it couldn't be regret, not for _them_ anyway. He ignored it, shook his head and glanced at Hermione, ignoring Ron's angry muttering.

"Hermione? Is this your family?"

Hermione nodded, smiling softly at the expression on Harry's face. "Yes."

"They aren't Muggles," Ron said before Harry could speak. "Their wands…."

Hermione glanced at her other friend, wondering when he had become so observant. Her family's wands were not something most could see as there was no bulky sheath. "No, they aren't."

"Then why—"

She bit back a laugh when he broke off. Typical Ron, speaking before he thought. "Why lie? For our protection."

She held his blue eyes, daring him to ask what made her so special, what made her _family_ so special. He had never seen or heard of them, they were openly opposing Voldemort like his family. When he looked away, she tried not to sigh.

Severus filled the silence as Harry and Hermione stared at one another, assessing the other teen. "Weasley, Potter, if you could pay attention for a few moments…. Thank you," he added sarcastically when they turned back to him. "You are not here so the _why_ can be explained to you, but the _whom._"

"Severus," Helen reproached softly. "They're only children."

All eyes turned to her, most of them with shock. The "children" were close to the same age as her daughter, the same young woman who had all verbally "spanked" them.

She smiled at the boys. "You are correct, Mr. Weasley. We are not Muggles. Our family lines consist of people from many walks of life, not all of them magical. We value the abilities we have and honor those who cannot or do not live in our world. The 'status' of my daughter's linage should not matter, should it?"

Ron's brows furrowed as his memories stirred. He looked at each person in turn, silent, trying to remember why those words sounded so familiar. He had heard them before. But…when?

Severus spoke once more, feeling the incessant pull within him. "They should not, Helen." He bowed his head in respect before turning to the boys, speaking with less sarcasm. He gestured to each person in turn so they could follow. "This is Helen and Menelaus, Hermione's parents. The couple beside them is Agamemnon and Leda, her grandparents."

Hermione?

Since when did Snape call Hermione her first name?

[-]

The names, they meant something. Ron shifted his weight and looked between his friends and the adults. Snape was acting weird, but he'd think about it later. Why did those names make him think of his mother?

He looked at each of the new witches and wizards in turn, trying to remember. Helen, Menelaus, Agamemnon, Leda.

"Is your last name Granger?" he blurted out before thinking. His ears burned with embarrassment as all eyes turned to him. "Well…it's just…'Granger's' not a wizard name, not on the Isles anyway," he added in a mumble.

"No, it's not," Helen said with another smile. "Our surnames vary by region, however the surnames you would be most common with, Mr. Weasley, is 'Mycenae' and 'Sparta'. Agamemnon Mycenae-Sparta, Leda Sparta-Mycenae, Menelaus Mycenae Sparta, Helen Troy-Sparta and Hermione Mycenae Sparta."

All watched as Ron experienced the stages of awareness. First his brows furrowed and he mouthed the names. As the blood fled from his ears, his eyes widened with recollection. His face lost several shades of color as he shuffled backwards.

"M-my mum used to tell me stories…about a young king named Agamemnon," he whispered hoarsely as he stared at the eldest seated wizard.

Agamemnon nodded and grinned, pitying the boy for his fear yet amused by the whispers of such stories. "I heard some of them as well. Glorified rumors, I assure you. Clytemnestra is Leda's niece, not her daughter, and I have never been married to her."

Hermione muttered under her breath about mythology and cruel parents before giving her family an innocent smile. What? It was true. The thought of a "Neoptolemus or Orestes" situation was something she hoped to never encounter. Although whose idea it was to name her "Hermione" was something she never figured out.

Harry looked between his friends, confused. "What 'm I missing Ron?"

Ron sputtered before bowing deeply, his motion automatic from his mother's constant teachings when he was young. He whispered frantically, trembling from the strength of his shock. "Harry…they're our monarchs. Our rulers."

[-]

[-]

**AN:** That was fun. Let's continue, I'm having a blast laughing at (I mean writing) Ron right now. Below is an explanation for future reference (mostly mine, but it might help you).

**Surnames**

Sparta is Leda's birth name.

Mycenae is Agamemnon's birth name.

-The alliance of their kingdoms resulted in the hyphenated names. First surname name denotes original kingdom. Who wants to guess which family member lived in the family castle first?

Menelaus's last names are not hyphenated as he is the legal heir to both through blood, not alliance.

Troy is Helen's birth name.

Hermione's name does not list "Troy" since Troy falls under Leda's jurisdiction. I never said Helen was born royal. Remember what she said?

The marriages aren't mythological correct because the original electronic encyclopedia I did the research in had only the basic legends. This was back in 2006 or so, and it's much easier for me to keep the names as they are.

Why "kingdom" and not "empire"? Because when I first wrote the story I didn't understand the difference. Now it's just easier to keep it "kingdom", since this story takes place in/around the British Isles.


	22. Chains and Cages II

**Chains and Cages (II) **

Harry's mind whirled as he pushed away every memory Voldemort had given him. And all his thoughts returned to one thing. "Hermione…you said there was no royalty in the wizarding world."

She snorted despite herself and crossed her arms. "Well, I couldn't very well say I was a Princess, could I?" She glanced at Ron, barely hiding her annoyance. "You can stand up now."

Albus bit back a chuckle, more amused by Hermione's "intense dislike" of formal greetings than the actual situation. His internal amusement faltered when he noticed the hard eyes staring at him. Clearing his throat, he ushered the nervous redhead to stand. "Harry, Ron, I hope you can understand why this knowledge has been hidden for so long."

Harry hesitated for a moment then nodded, understanding but yet _not_. "I…think I do. I just…if all the Dark wizards are afraid of you, why…?"

Agamemnon sighed softly as he leant back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. "That does not have a simple answer, Mr. Potter. However, I will give you a short one. While Gellert, during his time, and Tom are indeed afraid of us, and our influence, there was a time when our numbers were smaller. We, like any other family, can be tricked.

"Your own family was betrayed by one they considered a friend, Mr. Potter. I do not minimize the loss you have suffered. Yet I want you to imagine that on an international scale. Take that one scared man and multiply him. It would only take a single person, or a handful of people, to destroy nations. We are but a few people, yet the information and connections we have.… It could not be risked for a 'maybe'."

"I…I think I understand," Harry said after a long, considerate silence. "I don't like it, but I understand."

Sighs of relief echoed through the room.

[-]

Minutes ticked by as quiet conversation filled the office for the next two hours, and the boys sat stoically facing Hermione, Snape, and her family.

Seeing Snape acting politewas still mind-boggling, Harry quietly acknowledged to himself. Oh, he hated the man that sat near his friend. He _knew_, he _saw_ what he did. But…he understood, in a twisted way. He knew what it was like to have his soul bonded to someone so perversely evil that there was no room left for compassion.

Because of that, he didn't really hate the Potions Master so much as what he had done. The man was a terror in class and a git outside it, but…. Honestly, he couldn't really blame him. He had committed atrocities, but what he saw…something told him that the man sitting next to his friend and the man who rose his wand for Tom were two different men.

And anyone who had to be subjected to Tom's mind and spirit for a few decades would _have_ to be warped to survive. And to be a spy on top of that….

Ugh, his head hurt and he was starting to get confused.

Hermione was a Princess and technically a ruler of the wizarding world (or at least the British part, right?) even though everyone thought the monarchy was dead.

Snape was a sadistic reprobate in league with Bellatrix, which was (mostly) a cover for espionage and the Dark Lord and the Headmaster yanking him between themselves.

The Headmaster was obviously afraid of the people sitting in front of him, seeing as he would rather rest behind his desk than with them.

Ron had accurate knowledge about four adults that he had just met (and that, in itself, was frightening).

The Ministry was supposed to be a balance for the monarchy (much like the Muggle system of government), but their incompetance and forgetfulness of this little fact was probably due for a rude awakening.

The royal family (he still couldn't wrap his head around that) was _very_ much alive and more than a match for Tom…

So why was there a war going on?

…and just how many sides were there anyway?

_"More than two, Potter,"_ Severus whispered in his mind. He bit back a chuckle and merely smirked as emerald eyes met his. The green discs were alight with confusion and shock, his thoughts so loud that even Occlumency couldn't keep them all hidden.

_More_ than two? What did that…. Oh….

Severus nodded to himself, oddly satisfied with the dawning understanding in the young boy- man's eyes. He didn't like the brat, but he understood him in a twisted way. They were more alike than either of them wanted to acknowledge.

And may the gods help them, there _were_ more than two sides to the war.

As he looked at the brunette witch by his side, he acknowledged that _one_ of the factions wasn't even aware of its seperation.__

At least….not yet.

It made things interesting to say the least.

[-]

It had gone better than expected, Albus thought to himself as he stared at his now empty office. Just under four hours total had seen both Harry and Ron added to the growing list of people who knew of the Spartas' existence. Much had been discussed, but even _he_ wasn't sure what all they'd spoken of. At some point there had been multiple conversations between each person. It was then that they'd decided to end the meeting before overriding hostility drew their wands once more.

It had been…interesting…to see the interactions. A shiver ran down his spine as he considered what had happened before the boys' arrival. No, he wouldn't think about that. But _after_….

The boys being civil to Severus, Miss Sparta being aloft to her friends, the elders talking amongst themselves and sometimes including the younger generations.… It was all very telling.

And so was his spy's contact with the Boy Who Lived.

He knew.

And he knew Severus knew he was aware.

Whatever he had said when his mind had touched the boy's, Severus had obviously made a deep impression within seconds. Harry had been curious the rest of the meeting, asking questions while also losing himself in thought.

He wondered what the dark man had said, but decided not to push the issue. He could feel the Potions Master aching for a reason to diverge, to rebel. Even if it meant his life was forfeit, he was tired of the chains.

And yet…he had chosen them. First by going to Tom, then by coming to him. And for all Albus regarded the younger wizard as a son, he could not grant his freedom.

Not now….

Especially not now.

Not when the war was reaching its pinnacle not when chaos was ever so close to victory. The Order in disarray, the Ministry in shambles, the monarchy a hair's breadth from stepping forward, the school barely remaining independent from it all.

No…he could not allow the younger man his freedom. He trusted him, but….

Not with this. Not after all he had seen and done, not after all that had been done to him.

It choked him with guilt, the truth. To know what he had been a part of, what he had created and now condoned. Yet he could not be expected to lead a war without a spy or a weapon. Sometimes sparing a few meant saving the many.

Merlin help him if Minerva should ever hear such a betrayal of his thoughts.

Resting his head in his hands, he sighed tiredly.

There was another reason he could not let the black-eyed man to roam. Not only because he would most assuredly vanish without a trace, but because of _her_.

He was happy for them, he truly was. They would find salvation within each other, would heal the wounds he and countless others had created in their quest for peace.

_If_ Severus was controlled...

She was too powerful, too important to risk.

Even for him.

_Especially_ for him.

Severus deserved love, trust and loyalty more than anyone he knew. Yet…he would not give him the one thing which would ensure that. Not before she could control him, could defend herself against the corrupting darkness that she had chosen as her partner.

[-]

[-]

AN: And so the story begins to truly unfold. Are we seeing contradictions or simply facets?


	23. Forbidden

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Forbidden**

Eyes so dark they had no defined color watched from between large, old trees. The cold wind which blew across the unsheltered land barely touched him. He was isolated within this place, hidden from most of the world…

But not ignorant of it.

He knew what was happening. Even if the trees did not speak and students did not come here, he would still know. The others were anxious, whispering of what was happening. The Earth was screaming Her pain as the Sky burned with His rage. The very water which he had drunk from moments before tasted more like tears than the pure, clear liquid which sustained all life.

With a soft sigh, he looked at the sky, staring at the sliver of pale moon. Spring was still several moods away, and yet he knew the warm weather of rebirth would only bring more death. Nothing was in balance like it was meant to be. Not calm. No…even in the most untouched places of Nature, nothing was _serene_. There was a sense of calm, but there was never peace. Yet there was a balance, a steady give-and-take between life and death that was always maintained.

Dry lightning ripped across the sky, energy unseen by most slumbering in the castle. The energy around the stone fortress was gathering, condensing…becoming too much. Without something to ground it, it was creating a storm of magic and spirit. But the dwellers felt it, and those powerful enough to see it knew what it meant.

Life would not still.

Death would not halt.

The war would not wait.

The cycle would complete itself sooner rather than later, something most of them did not understand. Chaos and order, life and death, pain and pleasure, love and hate….it was all a matter of extreme. The pendulum swung from one end of the spectrum to the other, constantly trying to discard the overflow. Only when it settled in the center could the war end.

Only once they recognized and accepted the truth would there be serenity.

As the harsh winter wind blew a dusting of snow through the trees, he moved back. His eyes shifted from one part of the castle to another, watching as the storm became more directed, each strike of power draining more and more energy until all that was left was a muddy sky.

With a shiver, he turned and walked further into the forest. His home was warm and far enough from the stone structure that he could sleep peacefully for the night.

As he navigated to the heart of the great place, he wondered if any of them knew. If they realized what was happening, the rules they had broken...

He suspected they didn't.

After all…wasn't it human nature to crave the forbidden?

When he saw his family nestled together, each of them dozing, he silently acknowledged that even if it was forbidden, They would not have allowed it to progress if They didn't want it to. The humans may craved the forbidden, but They would only allow it to go unpunished if certain rules were _made_ to be broken.

And as he thought about the young female who'd entered his home several moons ago, the one who both called and repelled him, he realized not even _he_ knew everything. He, the observer, the one who held peace between multiple races and tribes, had not seen the full truth.

The wizard, with his darkness, would only allow her to shine brighter. He would not allow her to become what the others were trying to make her. They were breaking Their own rules to protect Their chosen.

With a shake of his head, he checked his family one last time before settling in to sleep.

If They were allowing such a union which had previously not been allowed….

Would contact also be granted?

[-]

[-]

**AN**: Random, I know. But what does it _mean_…?


	24. Victory

**Chapter Twenty**

**Victory**

He watched each breath escape her barely parted lips. The darkness of the room concealed him from even his own shadow, not that it was necessary. She was asleep, as she was meant to be. Satisfaction thrummed through his veins like a drug as he licked his own lips, allowing his eyes to trail down her body.

She sighed in her sleep and rubbed her cheek against the pillow—his pillow!—and he tilted his head in consideration. To know _he_ had exhausted her so thoroughly, to know _he_ was the one she craved even in her deepest dreams, gave him a level of triumph he hadn't felt in _years_.

She was his, all his. Earlier, days ago, he had thought that he couldn't claim her thusly. But he was wrong. He could. And he _had_. She was his, marked inside and out. Anyone who dared touch her, to look at her wrong, would meet with an agonizing end.

Had it only been days since he had seen her liege, since the whelps had learned the truth and one of his Masters had been halted?

Five days.

Five days in which he'd proven himself _wrong_.

Ahh…defeat had never tasted so sweet.

Though, not as sweet as _she_ had.

Her warmth had coated him so completely, even where her skin wasn't against his. She had nearly burned him, had almost suffocated him without realizing it, she had been so good.

The sound of his name on her swollen lips drew him back to the present. "Sev-erus…."

When a delicate hand snaked from under the rumbled sheets, instinctively reaching for where he had been, he moved to blanket her.

[-]

_Two hours earlier..._

Hermione grinned in sadistic satisfaction as her curse met its mark. She held no sympathy for her friends or professors as they all flew towards the wall.

Well….all but one.

Her smirk turned to a scowl as she faced the one man who_ stubbornly_ refused to acknowledge her win.

Sometimes she wondered if the doctor had dropped him on his head at birth. He truly was a fool at times.

"_Try again, Hermione,"_ was the silky whisper which echoed through her mind.

She didn't speak, didn't think, just reacted. Blinding bolts of pure emotion flew from her wand in a flurry of colors, each one hitting their mark….

And not a single one moving him.

Rage boiled within her, burning in her stomach to slowly creep up her throat. It wrapped around her heart, making her tremble and squint as red tinged her vision.

How. Dare. He!

Sucking air through her teeth, she dropped her wand, never noticing that it vanished to her holster. The air burned around her as her focus narrowed, eclipsing everything but the man staring at her. Power twined through her veins and crackled through her muscles, her trembles only broken by suppressed twitches. Her mouth dried as her ears rung, each second that passed ever raising the level of pressure within her.

She watched her own arm rise with a deadly calm. She met his gaze without hesitation, silently reminding him that _he_ chose this. No words escaped her lips as a single blast of darkly hued power slipped from her palm and glided easily through the air.

And that's what it was…. Power. Not energy, not magic, but raw power.

She watched it strike him….and smirked when he crumbled.

Hissing in satisfaction, she stalked towards him, never noticing they were now alone in the vast room. A shiver of caution ran down her spine as she stopped near him. Cats toyed with their prey, yes, but there were times that pray toyed back.

She tapped him with her shoe, watching his chest rise in fall. His quiet breath was strong. Alive then.

Good.

It wasn't time for him to die. Not until she said so.

And she didn't want him dead. Only…subdued.

A quiet rumble started in her chest and she buried it. _She_ was alpha, was ruler, was top…not him. She would not cede her position, her authority. But…she would share. He was worthy.

As her eyes skimmed down his black-clad body, taking in the form-fitting cloth, she allowed another smirk to tug at her lips.

Oh yes…very worthy. Strong enough to stand beside her and keep her in check when needed. Stubborn enough to challenge her too, even if he didn't always win. Equal in intelligence and creativity. Passionate.

…sensual.

And with a form that would put many of the males around her to shame.

She allowed herself to purr in pleasure, savoring the choice she had made. His magic complimented hers, his core embraced her, his spirit called for her and his body craved hers. He was _hers_.

[-]

_One hour earlier_…

Mate.

Was it a verb or a noun?

It didn't matter either way.

She stalked him.

The male.

Her male.

Her mate.

The world was different from this perspective. The colors sharper, though some were absent. Or at least, appeared absent. Either way, it didn't matter. It wasn't the colors which were important.

She trailed him through the vast castle to his chambers, pleased with his foresight. Better not to be caught out in the open. Licking her lips, she pushed the door closed behind her.

And pounced.

[-]

_Forty-five minutes earlier…_

The world was reduced to feeling and the faintest of sights. The flames which had previously lit the room were doused, the fire unable to withstand the pure ether that rolled off them. The blood rushing in their ears and the harsh breathing of the other had deafened them to most sounds. Even their palates were overwhelmed, the shared tastes just…too much.

But the feeling….

It would never be "too much".

There would never be "enough".

[-]

_Thirty minutes earlier…_

Something had changed. She didn't know what, but she knew _something_ had. Struggling against the instincts which drove her, she forced herself to _think_.

No, no, not feel. Oh by the great goddess, not to _feel_ with every fiber of her being the sensations he elicited. Her heated flesh pebbled as he skimmed it with his lips, his silk hair tickling every nerve.

Concentrate! She shook her head, trying to clear it, trying to think past the feelings, the taste. And the _warmth_, the scorching heat that was his skin against hers, his body blanketing her form. The only thing that really distracted her was the soft coolness under her.

Wait…coolness?

The thick couch was comfortable, yet not this soft either.

Oh dear….

He felt her still beneath him, but it took several moments for him to realize she wasn't going to flip them again. Thank Merlin. Once was enough.

Why was she stilling then?

He bit back a growl of annoyance, everything within him crying out for her, every part of him united in his desire. She had matched him, _bested_ him, then hunted him. She had come to him, chosen him, allowed him to show her that she was as worthy of _him_ as he was of _her_.

He kissed her clavicle, following the feel of her thudding heart with his lips to gently nip right above the powerful organ. Just a bit…lower….

"Severus."

Ah, his name. She had said it before. But when she repeated it, louder this time, he realized it was different. It wasn't a sigh, it was a statement. A request.

Giving her heaving breasts a mournful look, he raised his head to meet her eyes.

[-]

_Present time…_

He laid atop her only to roll on his side, hugging her to him. He fought another smirk as he noticed the faint marks on her body beginning to form.

She was _his_. He craved her, oh did he crave her. She was a drug to him, worth more than the very air he breathed and sweeter than any drop of honey. As she settled herself against him, he licked his lips in remembrance. As sweet as her skin was, her mouth was better. Bolder, richer. He could still taste her on his lips, the sweat of her skin and hint of long-faded mint from her tongue.

The feel of her leg sliding between his made him bite his tongue. She was his. He had claimed her. Not completely, but…enough. Anyone who thought they could take her from him, or could take her period, would suffer. She was _his_. His marks on her flesh, his scent on her body…. Yes, she was his.

She was not ready for the full truth of her position, her power. Nor was she ready for him to clarify her confusion. She desired, yes…oh yes. But…not now. He would not have hesitation or regrets. She was resting in his arms (unfortunately covered by his shirt), under his blankets (though now they smelled more like _her_ than him…not a bad thing), in his bed (willingly, mind you). He would not push for more. In less than a week, he had proved himself wrong.

Well, partially….

She was no less than she had been this morning.

And that was enough.

For now.

[-]

[-]

**AN**: Hhhmmmm


	25. Flight

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Flight (I)**

Small arms wrapped around wool-encased legs as glazed eyes stared blindly at dancing flames. For all the silence of the empty room, it was loud with thoughts unspoken. Without conscious awareness, the curled figure rocked ever so slightly. A heartbeat became the cadence to which each chaotic thought marched.

What…

Why…

How…

None of it made sense.

It…it wasn't like _her_.

For all it would hurt to stick her hand in that crackling fire, it could not compare to the agony within her heart and mind.

Confusion gripped her until she had fled, lost within her doubts and panic. The previous day's events ran through her, each repeat of the same memories revealing more and more.

Oh by the gods what had she _done_?

What she felt…

What she _craved_…

Too far, much too far.

Hugging her legs tighter still, Hermione hid her face in her knees and choked on a sob.

She loved Severus.

She _wanted_ him. Desired him. Dreamed of him. None of this was new to her.

But to tease him...

To hunt him as if he were prey, stalking him through the castle…

And then to pounce on him…

She knew, logically, that there was no reason to feel this way.

It was naturally, perfectly natural.

Except the accident in her second year made her act like a cat in heat without any warning.

And that while it was normal and could have…might have…probably went too far.

They'd never…not like that.

A shudder wracked her body as icy arms engulfed her spirit.

She shivered as phantom fingers, conjured so strongly by her never-ending memories, skimmed her hidden flesh.

And then she began to cry.

[-]

Rubbing her eyes, Helen yawned softly as she opened her eyes to the dark of her room.

Slowly turning to the side, she noted her husband was still sleeping, his quiet snores confirming it wasn't an act. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she turned the other way and reached for her dressing gown.

Spying the tiny, barely burning flames in the chamber's grate, she pulled the heavy gown over her nightdress and knotted the robe.

What had woken her?

Yawning again, she pushed her feet into her slippers (while mentally thanking her mother for sending a new pair from home this year) and padded to the bathroom. It didn't take her long to use the facilities and re-enter her bedroom.

What time was it anyway?

Lifting her wand from the nightstand, she flicked it softly to check the time.

_3:21:13 A.M._

_Why_ was she awake?

_Something_ nagged at her, pulling her from her warm bed and towards the corridor.

Shaking her head, she slid the wooden conductor into her sleeve and silently left their chambers.

She didn't know where she was going, but with each new step she took, she began to recognize the feeling.

A mother's intuition was _never_ wrong.

Especially when her child called for her.

Hermione had done this as a child, never realizing exactly why her parents were always there when she woke from a nightmare. Most children never understood it until they had children of their own, truth be told.

Intuition was something beyond magic. But when you added magic to the mix, a child would unconsciously be able to quite literally _pull _on their parents if needed.

Shaking her head, she pulled the dressing gown tighter around her, realizing if her daughter had come home before dawn, something had to have happened.

She didn't question how she knew which room to enter, only turned the knob slowly and slipped in. The door shut quietly behind her and she turned, looking around.

There.

The chair didn't normally face the fire like that.

_Oh Hermione, _she thought to herself. Her heart broke for her only child as she watched her sob quietly.

She closed the distance between them and calmly bent to hug her daughter. The young witch jumped, letting out a strangled gasp, but she didn't let go. She cooed softly and ran a hand through her hair. "Easy now child….mother's here."

Those words, spoken with such quiet assurance, seemed to break whatever control her daughter had. Hermione's quiet sobs became heart-wrenching heaves that shook her entire body. Tears and mucus covered her shoulder and she paid it no mind, only holding her child closer. She shifted so she sat in the chair, cradling her daughter in her lap as if she were a babe. She didn't hum or whisper reassurances other than to tell her she was there.

_What_ had happened? _What_ had caused her such distress?

With each minute that passed, her regal daughter's composure shattered further, each sound growing louder until she howled with agony. Only her face pressed into her mother's thick gown allowed the rest of the castle to sleep.

"What happened love?" Helen murmured. "Why are you home so early?"

Whatever words she spoke were incoherent. Yet the way she shuddered and curled tighter, how she pressed her face even deeper into the thick cloth told her everything. As much as she'd wanted to believe otherwise, _something_ had happened between her daughter and the Potions Master.

Even Albus wouldn't be able to save him if he'd hurt her.

She didn't know how long they sat there, rocking gently before the dying fire. Time was meaningless in the face of her child's pain. It was only the repetitive whispers which drew her from her thoughts. Straining, she finally managed to hear the words.

"…can't tell you, can't tell you, can't tell you…"

Over and over, the three words sounded more like a plea or a mantra rather than a statement of fact.

"You can tell me anything."

Hermione frantically shook her head, keening softly as she buried her face once more. She shook like a child afraid of being beaten.

_Nonononono! Can't! Can't! No tell, no tell, mommy mad, no tell!_

As if hearing her thoughts, Helen slid her hand under Hermione's chin and lifted her head, forcing her to look up. "You can tell me anything sweetie….I won't be mad. I promise."

Hermione's teeth chattered from the trembling of her jaw. She averted her eyes, hugging herself as those cold arms wrapped tighter around her, even her mother's presence unable to push them away for long.

"I…I…." _Ican'ttellIcan'tsayIcan'tIcan'tIcan'tI—_

"It's all right darling," Helen cooed softly, running a hand through her hair once more. "Take your time."

Once more, the words broke something within the younger woman. Her determination to remain silent cracked as easily as her composure.

"I didn't mommy! I didn't take my time. I said I would, I would, and I meant to, but I didn't, and I rushed, and, and…. And I didn't mean to but I _did_ and now I'm _cold_ and I feel…so…so.…" She gasped for air, keening again, the words tumbling free as everything within her writhed at the truth. For so long she had sworn to herself she would never… Especially after…. And yet…now she had. Almost had. Would have.

"I don't know what happened mommy. We were fighting then I won because he kept winning then it-it-it didn't make sense! Nothing made sense because I was thinking about him like I was an animal or something then I was hunting him and I caught him and…and…"

The Greek witch closed her eyes and tried to make sense of her daughter's rambles. Little of it was rational, it was too rushed, and there were too many missing pieces. Forcing herself to take a deep breathe, she acknowledged the part that _did_ make sense.

"I'm not mad sweetie," she said quietly but firmly as Hermione whimpered. She hugged the younger woman tighter as she tried to squirm away. "Darling, I'm not mad. But…I need to understand. I know you're confused and hurt, I know you're scared. I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened."

Hermione shook her head once more, lips pressed together so hard they were white.

Realizing her daughter's stubbornness had returned, she grimaced and rubbed her head. Her other arm remained tight around the younger woman, refusing to let go. She knew her child would run…had she not done the same? The circumstances were different, but she'd run from her mother too.

"Hermione…did I ever tell you about Darius?"

She _felt_ Hermione's thoughts stop at her words. Like a jolt, the young princess in her arms become still as stone, barely breathing. It was only when she shook her head a third time that she continued.

"When I was only a few years older than you, I was attending university. You know I was sent to Hogwarts for my primary schooling. Yet when I returned home, it was decided that I would attend a native institute, rather than a foreign one. My father was insistent upon it, though I didn't know why at the time. I suspect I know the reason now that I'm older, yet neither he or my mother will confirm it.

"When I was in my second year, I was attending an ethics class. In Greece, much like America and other countries, Muggles and magical folk are more aware of one another. This particular class was a combination of both cultures. You can imagine the…struggle…it was to attend a philosophical class with _both_ Muggle and magical students. It's one of the reasons I insisted you have part of your upbringing be as non-magical as possible, to tell you the truth. Many witches and wizards are far too ignorant of what happens outside of the magical community.

"In this class, we were frequently given group projects. My professor was a Squib, Hades rest his soul. He knew the only way to make us cooperate was to base our grade on that cooperation. And it worked. Well, for one particular assignment which lasted half the semester, I was paired with a young man named Darius."

Helen sighed softly and continued running a hand through Hermione's hair. Her voice dropped despite knowing they were alone. Her husband knew some of it, but…. No, she wouldn't do that to him.

"Despite the tension between the students, we were rather civil to one another. At first, we simply wanted to finish the assignment as quickly as possible. But as the weeks wore on, we began to realize how much we had in common. Though we were born in very separate worlds, as he was a Muggle of a 'lower' class, we became friends.

"Much like you and Severus, we found we had common interests and beliefs. We began spending time together, as friends do. Walking along the shore, visiting the libraries, attending speeches or plays…it didn't matter. We enjoyed much of it, and what we didn't, we still laughed about.

"We were very much the cliché of young love, Darius and I. We thought because we had one another, the rest of the world would leave us be. How wrong we were.

"Our relationship progressed as it naturally would, and much like I suspect you are now, I was confused by my own actions. I never told anyone, yet I think what suspicions my parents might have had were founded when he approached my father for permission to take me out properly."

She whispered as pain radiated from her heart. Long buried memories of golden summer sun and clear blue seas played before her mind's eye. The feel of strong, young arms wrapped around her made her hug her daughter tighter, as if to protect her from her own confusion.

"The poor man." She chuckled sadly, tears burning her eyes as her voice grew hoarse from emotion. "He knew little about the true politics of our world, yet he tried anyway. My father told me at dinner that very night that I was to never see him outside of class again.

"I argued of course. What did he know about our relationship, our feelings? Nothing, because I had told him nothing. But…my father was of high rank, and was the patriarch of our family. I defied him, and spoke to Darius. …whatever my father had said to him during their meeting, it frightened Darius. For his safety _and_ mine, our relationship ended. Three months later, I was betrothed to your father."

"You loved him," Hermione whispered, too shocked to speak more. Her mother did not have to elaborate, she could read between the lines.

"Yes," came the agonized answer.

"Did…did you ever love daddy?"

Helen hugged her tighter still, eyes clenched shut to hide her tears. "I love your father very much, Hermione. But he was not my first love, and he knows it. He accepted that at the time of our marriage, I was a friend to him. We have grown to love one another, and that is what matters."

"….but you still love Darius."

The statement was met with silence.

She had her answer.

"Have you seen—"

"No. I have returned home twice since my departure. I was there for two days each time, and only left the house for the market and meetings. I never saw him." She shuddered and swallowed a sob of her own, desperate to let the past sink into the recesses of her mind once more.

"Please, Hermione, don't ask anymore. I love your father. Don't dwell on it any further or ask more questions. I didn't tell you so you could hurt more…I told you so you would not repeat my mistakes.

"Darius was my first love. I do not know how our relationship would have continued, and I do not wish to think about it. But I do remember what it was like to be in a relationship where you feel as if your heart, soul, mind and body cannot agree on anything.

"I don't know exactly what happened between you and Severus. I will help you as much as I can, but darling…you must speak with him. I may be another woman, and your mother, but he is the partner you have chosen. We can all see it. You have _chosen_ him, my daughter. It means more than most realize. Only he can truly help you with this."

"I…we didn't…I mean….it was only…" She stuttered as various aspects of her spirit fought. The child, who would always cling to her parents, demanded she tell her mother before she did become angry. She had done wrong, she must tell. The heir herself wanted to know what yesterday and the story meant for the family and her relationship. But the rest of her concurred that this matter was none of Helen's business.

Something within her loosened a fraction as Helen felt Hermione begin to relax. Realization and rational thought must be setting in. "Would it be easier if I asked questions?"

A silent nod was her only answer.

"You fought…a sparring? Yes? And eventually you won. Don't glare at me child, you said he kept winning but you ultimately won. And then you…." She fell silent for a moment, trying once more to sort through her daughter's chaotic ramble. "Chased him?"

Another nod, though hesitant this time.

"You chased him…as if he were prey? Meaning you stalked him, yes? I understand this. Contrary to popular belief, Hermione, humans _are_ animals. For all our houses, clothes and multiple languages, we _are_ animals at the end of the day. There's nothing wrong with the fact that you felt that. It happens to every man and woman in some point in their life. Man generally feel it stronger during adolescence, but there is also a reason why women are called 'bitch' once a month. I promise you, it has very little to do with being grouchy and everything to do with the animal nature.

"So you stalked him, and when you 'caught' him, you 'pounced'. I'm assuming you mean your emotions and desires overcame you."

Hermione hid her face once more in Helen's shoulder and nodded. She flinched when her mother spoke again, but agreed.

"I know you do not want to tell me, and some part of me does not want to ask. But to understand, I need to clarify this. All right?

"You embraced and kissed him." Nod.

"He returned your affection." Nod.

"You touched one another." Nod. Pause. Head shake.

"No…. Something happened before that? Yes. Give me a moment then."

The older witch stared at the wall, trying to remember what that felt like with Menelaus. When her love, passion and magic overtook her, pushing and demanding in a way which it never had. When she lost all rational thought and simply acted on what her body told her, on what felt good.

It would be hard to remain standing for long in that state. The strength of instinct and feeling would simply be too much.

"Something happened…. You fell or lay down at some point? Yes. But you don't know when. All right. So until that point, you were embracing more than touching." Nod, hesitant, but still a nod.

"Then you fell? No. Lay?" Shiver.

"Do you want me to stop asking?" Shake head. "I am worried, Hermione, not angry. You're old enough to make your own decision, despite my wish to keep you a child. I'll continue." Hands gripped her dressing gown.

"You lay down. Your shirts came off. Your pants came off." The tiniest of nods confirmed her words. Oh how she wished she didn't have to ask further. As much as she wanted to help her daughter, no mother truly wanted to know. But…given that it was still predawn, her daughter was much too afraid and she had no doubt the acts of others were now rampant within the young woman's subconscious, she continued.

"Your undergarments came off. No…yes? Partially…yes. Did his? No."

Everything within her that was a mother crashed into an exhausted, relieved heap. _This_ she could help and work with. _This_ she could calmly wrap her mind around and discuss rationally. _Now_ her daughter's words made sense.

"Both of your hips remained clothed." A nod, a shiver, a muffled whimper. "Hermione…did he push you?" Shake head. "Did he ask you for anything?" Shake head. "Did he try to—" A frantic shake of head.

Which only meant….

"He didn't push you. _You_ pushed you." Nod, sob. She rocked the younger woman. "Easy now child, easy…it's all right.

"I know it hurts, I know you're confused. I know you don't want to think or talk about it anymore, but I _need_ you to listen to me, all right? Thank you.

"I wasn't there. I can only speculate exactly what happened. I won't ask. The fact that you're home this early in the morning, hiding here rather than the confines in your own rooms, and clutching me tells me your fear. You may have gone farther than you have previously with Severus. There is no shame in this. I understand it wasn't ideal. I can't change what happened, sweetie.

"But know this, my darling daughter. For all you pushed yourself, you did not push beyond your limit. You are frightened now, doubting yourself. Pull back. Speak with him. Let him reassure you. Let him _understand_. You went too far for your own comfort; he shouldn't judge you for this. He did not ask for more than you were willing to give, and I assume he stopped when you said something.

"You've done nothing wrong. Know that. Nothing is wrong or bad about what you've done. You made a mistake, learn from it. Now you know your limits better than ever. Use that knowledge. Grow from it. Have trust in _yourself_, Hermione, as much as you have it in those around you."

Hours later, as the first rays of dawn's early light crept through the window, mother and daughter remained in the chair. They slept quietly, though not peacefully. Yet none would deny that the tears which graced their sleeping faces were those of healing and understanding, rather than hidden pain.

[-]

[-]

**AN**: Well, it's certainly a change from the last chapter.


	26. In the Dark I

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**In the Dark (I)**

Misery wept from the dark, thick walls. Faded decorative paper, the glue long since turned to dust, clung to the dank wood by sheer stubbornness. The muffled sound of raised voices drifted through the first floor of the house, contained by an invisible barrier.

She followed the sound, her arms close to her body as she stepped quietly. Didn't want the floor to squeak. Or to hit one of the twins' traps.

Now there was a reason to pause.

The twins turning evil.

Shivering at the thought, she shook her head and continued on.

Taking a deep breathe, she resisted the urge to bow her head as the dark walls seemed to grow taller. Flames struggled to burn stubs of wicks, casting weak, dancing shadows. It didn't take magic to feel the agony, the anger which had become imprinted into these very walls.

The door in front of her did nothing to mask the speakers behind it. Their voices were too loud, emotions too harsh. Words flowed clearly from around the wooden gate, yet she paid them no mind.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open. Smiling ruefully at the front of her mind, she saluted another part of herself as it burned away in the bright kitchen light.

Silence reigned before the expected question reached her ears.

"What is she doing here, Albus?"

[-]

He'd woken to find her gone, the bed cold. He hadn't expected it, and truth be told he didn't _like_ it….

But he understood. It was necessary.

Necessity was a _bitch_ sometimes.

But when she'd been absent for breakfast and lunch, he'd begun to worry. When the ghosts and portraits fell silent at his approach, he'd become grim. When Minerva approached him, anger had roared inside him.

And then suddenly, she was there.

And everything inside was silent.

Deep within himself, hidden in the recesses of his twisted, broken soul and mind, he watched her. SAW her.

How she averted her eyes and maintained polite conversation without truly speaking. How she kept to the walls and snuck off whenever possible.

How, even hours after her return, she _fled_ from him.

The icy fire which scorched his very being and pulled so violently upon his chains made him abandon his watch. His Master was calling, and he could not ignore Him.

By the darkness she would tell him though.

The gathering passed with little incident. More reports, more punishments (not him this time, thank Him), more orders. The scenery had not changed, not that he cared. If his Lord wanted a pretty view, who was he to argue?

What he _was_ going to argue with, however, was Lucius' current invitation.

Until one word caught his attention.

Mudblood.

"Very well," he drawled with a resigned sigh. He cast a glance at his fair-haired friend and smirked. "One drink…though why you wish to waste fine liquor for news on the golden brats is beyond me."

"They…interest me at the moment," Lucius drawled. He met Severus' eyes and smirked, seeing the mixture of horror, disgust and intrigue playing within their black depths.

"Oh?"

"I'll tell you once we're away from the snow."

[-]

She looked at everyone. Well, almost everyone. Her eyes darted around so as to avoid the section of the table where he sat.

She couldn't face him, not now, not here.

Swallowing against the emotions which threatened to choke her, she raised her head and squared her shoulders as her parents had taught her. She imagined her grandfather behind her, his wand tapping the base of her skull. "_Your spine may have natural curves, but there is no reason to add more by bowing your head,"_ he'd told her.

She took in the guarded expressions, the confusion, worry, and amusement which graced their features. Each face and obvious emotions were noted within her mind for review later. Allies and enemies could be determined in moments like this.

She mentally shook herself and turned towards Albus, raising an eyebrow as she waited for him to answer the question.

[-]

The sheer opulence around him was disgusting. Grimacing at the fabric lined walls, spotless and priceless marble floors, the ancient crystal handing from the ceiling and countless other horrid displays of old wealth, Severus shook his head. It was the same every time he would come to the Malfoy estate. He would grimace, Lucius would laugh, he would sneer and the other man would sulk. Why change the routine?

A man needed _some_ sort of constant in his life.

But this time, his friend didn't even notice. He simply kept walking, cane tapping lightly on the floor with each step.

And what was it with Lucius and his cane? The man didn't need stability, he could walk fine? Clearly his riches had gone to his head before birth. Honestly, to carry an item which was a weapon against _himself_ was foolish.

Or had he forgotten the time Bella had broken three of his ribs with that long wooden sheath?

With a sigh, he settled into the ridiculously overstuffed chair and raised an expectant eyebrow at his friend.

He bit back a chuckle as Lucius sighed and called for a house elf. "What do you want to know so badly, my friend, that you're willing to call me here?" He took the offered tumbler from the elf with barely a glance.

"Come, Severus, I merely wish to catch up with an old friend."

A soft chuckle spilled over the crystal in his hand as he lifted it to his mouth. "Funny. We 'catch up' regularly."

"True," came the bored response. "Draco tells me the three golden Griffins are acting differently."

He closed his eyes with a grimace. "Lucius, _must_ we speak of them? I'd much prefer to sit in silence and enjoy my drink."

"All right, my brother. Then…can you at least tell me about the mudblood?"

Everything within him stilled and turned towards the blonde haired wizard. Slowly opening his eyes, he raised an eyebrow but otherwise maintained a bland expression.

Within his mind, he looked at the walls. He knew some of what was beyond them, but not all. Much of what was hidden by his…nicer…self were things even he believed his Master was better not knowing. Why cause Him yet more grief over things beyond His immediate reach?

Hermione was something he never wanted his true Master to know about.

She was _his_.

His goddess, his witch! The power that thrummed through her, the magic which intoxicated her, the passion he'd awaked for _life_ was his. Not his Master's.

So _why_ was Lucius asking about her?

[-]

[-]

**AN: **Here's the edited version.


	27. In the Dark II

**In the Dark (II)**

Albus calmly met the questioning eyes of the witches and wizards around him before turning to face her. She held his gaze without a single flinch, understanding his admission for what it was.

"Miss Granger is joining us at my request."

_That's right_, she thought to herself, never looking away from the Headmaster. _Your _request_! I am no soldier of yours._

A quiet exhale and simultaneous gasp off to the side told her at least two others understood.

[-]

"Why would you want to waste breath on _her_, Lucius?"

"Oh, so something has happened." Lucius leaned forward, a slow smile forming on his lips. "You appear…defensive…my friend."

"_Annoyed_, is more the word," Severus drawled as he lifted his tumbler once more. "I have to spend enough time watching, interacting with and speaking of school matters.

"But…you have piqued my curiosity. Why this sudden interest?"

He raised an eyebrow at his brother in darkness, waiting.

"Oh Severus….haven't you realized? I've _always_ been interested in the Mudblood."

Inside his mind, he stopped fighting the fire and lightning which bound him. The claims his Masters had laid on him became united in their goal. No longer were they to _bind_ him to Them, not at this moment. No…no, now they were meant to hold him together.

[-]

The meeting continued after a long silence. She dutifully took notes from her place by the wall, half-hidden in the shadows. Every once in a while her eyes would cut through the darkness around her, watching, assessing, cataloging.

The sounds of an old, neglected house could be heard even as the Order members spoke. She paid little attention to Arthur's report. Her hand moved the quill with little thought, having long since become used to the monotonous task of note-taking.

The dismal appearance of the kitchen, despite the constant repairs and redecorations, made her wonder if there was nothing better. The resistance against the Dark Lord _had_ to meet in a house of his former supporters? Didn't they realize the irony of using the Black house? Yes, it was bequeathed to them via Harry. That didn't change the fact that on a subconscious level, the Order had been tainted from the beginning.

Oh, she understood Albus' reasoning. Sirus had an Unplottable, protected house—what better place to hold secret meetings? Yet such a house did not give the Order a sense of open resistance, did not grant them the psychological assurance of their victory (or righteousness). It was disgustingly simple, and she knew the older wizard understood the ramifications of their "headquarters."

The Order was a secret organizations, meant to be spoken of in distrust and fear. Treachery and betrayal came from within their very heart, making enemies from allies. After all, one might be _against_ the Dark Lord but not _for_ Muggleborns. Grimmauld Place, from its title to the appearance, was the embodiment of the Order. It was the opposite of the honorable, loving, friendly army the Headmaster wished it was.

It was run down, out of date, filled with tension, depressive, dangerous and treacherous. And yes, she used the word _twice_ to describe the house _and_ the Order, thank you very much. Half the people sitting around the table would openly criticize her for her supposed ancestry if they weren't forced to be silent.

By using this house, the Order was openly admitting they had no qualms about stooping to the level of their enemies. The house had been witness to countless generations of horrors. The very taint of what it meant to be _evil_ would never be removed despite numerous cleansing charms. The Order had chosen to be here through two wars, rather than somewhere neutral, and the house itself had become a defining character of the war effort.

That was just _her_ opinion, however. She could be wrong.

Idly noting that Tonks was speaking, she rubbed her hands on her legs. She hated this house. Hated the energy, the emotion which seeped from the walls and coated her skin. It was the opposite of Hogwarts, but nearly as sentient. She hated what it represented, and what being here did to her and those she cared about.

But mostly, she hated the fact that there was no privacy. All the shielding and warding spells in the world couldn't stop the _noise_ which drifted from floor to floor.

It was that noise which forewarned her of someone approaching the very room they were all gathered in.

[-]

Brushing soot from his robes, Severus allowed himself just a moment to _be_. To _feel_. White-hot anger surged through him, tearing through his Occlumency and decimating the separation of his mind. The phantom feel of a fleeting pulse under his fingers, the caress of a struggling heart as it fought to beat steadily, made him clench his hands. Blunt nails dug into his scarred palms as the coolness of absent blood dripped from his fists.

Everything within him was aligned, _demanded_ blood, _craved_ violence, _desired_ to cause pain and _bathe_ in the agony he caused. The truth of what he learned still rung in his ears, deafening him to reason. The very _thought_ of…of….

A roar of pure _feeling_ and _power_ lodged itself in his throat, unable to escape as he _shook_. Neither of the men who had created the monster he now was would be able to look upon him, not now, not like this. His control was in tatters, his unified mind a raw, bloodstained battlefield.

The things he had done in the past…the lives he had taken in some way, the minds he had destroyed, spirits he had twisted or crushed…. The bodies he had corrupted and mutilated, hearts he had torn apart…. All of this he had done with _glee_. Oh, he may have been sorry later, but what none of them understood was he. Was. A. Death. Eater. For every second of pain he suffered, every drop of blood or tear he shed, he inflicted a million more upon others.

But even he, for all he had inflicted upon the world, could not _compare_ to _this_!

Opening his eyes, he ground his teeth before forcing himself to calm. He would get answers…but not like this. They would kill him the moment he opened the door. Albus would know the truth and he would die. He had to…calm. Be still, like water.

Water. The pool. The maze. Yes, a maze. His Occlumency was in ruins, but there was enough left to create a maze. It was risky and fragile. The defenses would last only a few minutes, and only seconds under a direct attack. But long enough... Long enough to get her out and get the truth.

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head and returned his awareness to the outside world. It took moments to move from the old sitting room to the kitchen. The closer he was to the door, the slower he walked.

Something deep within him, some spark of awareness or recognition, told him she was there. He'd planned to make a brief report then leave, but…. Not now.

He would report _later_. She would tell him _now_.

[-]

She turned away from the Order and faced the door, curious. Everything within her said to flee, that she was in danger. Yet none of the wards had activated, none of the alarms had sounded. So why…why was her hand wrapped around her wand?

Her eyes closed as pain radiated through her skull. She shivered violently, clenching her teeth to fight back a yelp. Grateful for her half-hidden position, she mumbled her excuses and stumbled through the room. Agony pulsed through her, wrapping around her heart and burning through her veins. Why why why why—

And just as quickly, it was gone. She barely had time to register the freedom, not realizing the mind which had wrapped around hers was now gone, before strong hands wrapped around her biceps.

A scream froze in her throat as one of those hands pressed against her mouth.

Magic failed her. She pushed it outward, and it simply moved around her target.

Panic made her struggle. Instinctively, she pulled and trashed against the arms that were wrapped around her. Desperately, she tried to slow the body that was pulling her backwards, taking her away from those who could help her.

All her training, all her practice, all her knowledge fled as a single realization pierced her consciousness.

The _only_ reason the protections would remain dormant, the _only_ reason Albus and the others wouldn't have _felt_ the evil that wrapped around her, the _only_ reason he—and the strong, flat chest behind her was most assuredly male—would have gained entrance to begin with…

Was because he was trusted.

Fresh terror seized her as he spun and pushed her away, the sound of a clicking lock confirming her worst fears.

[-]

He stared at her, struggling to keep his breath even.

For all he had done (and would still do), Legilimency had never been a weapon for him. It was too much of a violation, even to his tastes. He would break a mind, but not with his own. It was too similar to what his fa—

No, not now. Now wasn't the time for memories.

But the mere _thought_ of his father made him remember his _friend_ and what he had _said._

He stared at her, his anger renewed. How dare she not tell him! She, run from _him_? HE was the only one who _would protect her_ from them! Fists clenched, he bared his teeth in a silent snarl.

He could ring her _bloody_ _neck_ for this! This…this…

What was she doing?

Grabbing her small fist inches from his nose, he wrapped his free hand around her other wrist before she had time to pull away.

"_What_ are you _doing_?" he growled. His grip tightened as she thrashed against him once more, throwing her body around. "_Stop_ this foolishness!"

"Let me go!" She screamed the words, knowing he had silenced the room, knowing he had sealed it, knowing they were the only ones who knew he had arrived. No one else had reacted to the footsteps she heard, and the only reason she'd heard was because she'd been so close to the door. Even the magical creatures in the room hadn't stirred, hadn't looked towards the wooden barrier.

"You damned foolish woman, stop!" Desperate to keep her from hurting either of them—and to stop his own barely-controlled temper from breaking free—he forced her backwards while still holding her arms. Miscalculating the distance between her feet and his, she stumbled. He swore and shifted his weight, pushing off the ground with one foot. He wrapped his arms around her protectively in case he had misjudged the distance.

She flinched from the slight impact before struggling again. No no no, this was NOT _her_ Severus, this was not _her_ partner, was _not_ the man she'd come to _know_ and lo…care for!

"Hermione! Be _still_!" He turned them, never thinking, acting on instinct, his control shredding with every new bruise she gave him. He pinned her, gasping for air, his ribs aching from her blows. His head spun as her magic whipped around him, overwhelming his senses.

A cry tore from her as she realized she couldn't win. She couldn't push him off, he was stronger and had more leverage. Her magic was useless, it wasn't _doing _anything to him! "I HATE you! You liar, you bastard, I hate you for this! I will kill you, I swear I will, I'll—"

"SILENCE!" He roared as his own magic pushed against her, wrapping around her as surely as his mind had. He closed his eyes, hissing, drawing air through his teeth as he fought to maintain himself. He was angry, yes, so _very angry_, but he wouldn't lash out. He wasn't his Master, wasn't his father, wasn't Lucius. Bloody. Malfoy.

Pulling the power back into himself, he opened his eyes and looked down at her. "Other than scare you, you idiot woman, why could you _possibly _want to kill me? It's not enough to lie to me?"

It was too dark to see her properly, and he didn't trust his magical control enough to light the sconces. When she didn't reply, he shifted her wrists to one hand and touched her cheek.

Her flinch confused him.

The accompanying whimper annoyed him.

The fresh tears lingering on his fingers made him understand.

Whispering a spell for light, he looked at her properly.

Her head was turned from him, her eyes clenched tight. Her face was red from emotion and she trembled from head to toe, as tense as a watch spring.

When he touched her cheek again, and was greeted by a choked sob, realization and horror tore through his mind and buried itself in his heart.

He released her without a word.

And watched her scurry across the dusty bed to press herself into the corner, shaking wand pointed towards his chest.

The terror in her eyes, so similar to what he had seen as a child, gave him a clear mirror of just _what_ he had become.

And what he saw made him bow his head.

He was cruel, spiteful, vindictive, shallow, selfish, greedy, possessive and evil. He'd hurt many over the years, often with a laugh and a smile. But not like this. _Never_ like this, in _any_ form.

Evil, yes. Abusive, no.

The Dark Lord, for all his ruthlessness, for all his demands, was wise enough to understand there was a limit to what his best spy would do. He would never hand the Potions Master a child, unless it was for a merciful death. He knew what the dark man would and would not tolerate.

Torturing a child he would not participate in. Hurting a random, defenseless person would never be his in line with his tastes. Rape he would not condone.

He lifted his head and tossed his wand on the bed, spreading his hands. He was still angry (_why_ hadn't she _told him_?!) but not like before. The truth could do that, could sap a man of his very will…why not his driving force?

"I won't hurt you."

"Don't!" Her shaking voice was another wound to his shredded heart. "Don't lie to me! You-you—I trusted you!"

"I…acted rashly…"

"Rashly? Rashly?!" He flinched as her words rose, taking on a hysterical edge. The sight of her tears made him want to close his eyes again. "Rashly is bursting into a room. Rashly is yelling in a crowded corridor. Rashly is not-not-not _dragging_ me into a…a…a…

"A be-bedroom an-and…

"P-p-p-pin-ning m-me…."

A sob of betrayal become a howl of agony which tore itself from the very depths of her soul. She kept her arm up, knowing if he truly wanted to hurt her, he could. It was already proven that her magic wouldn't stop him. She wasn't strong enough to fight him.

He…he would…would….

She slid down the wall without realizing it, not caring if he saw, not caring if he broke her. Her body was a formality at this point, he'd already destroyed her heart and was working on her mind.

Oh gods.

She'd…she'd…almost…with a r—with…and….

Guilt pushed bile into her throat and she swallowed it, knowing if she let anything other than tears out, she'd never stop.

"Why didn't you tell me about Lucius?"

The name made her cringe. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head frantically. No no, she wouldn't remember, no more, not here, not again.

"Hermione…why didn't you tell me?"

"Why do you care?" The shrill words escaped before she could stop them. "Why do you care, _Death Eater?_ What does it matter to you, aside from the fact that he…he…."

"That he almost raped you?" She flinched at the ice which covered his steely words. "That he cornered you in Diagon Alley and dragged you into a cul de sac? That he stripped you of your wand and nearly your life? That he's now _obsessed_ with you because you escaped him? Why do you _think_ any of it matters to me?"

She pressed her hands to her ears, desperate to ignore his words. Flashes of that horrible day seized her mind.

Shopping with her family.

Running back to the store.

Her wrist broke when he slammed it against the wall, her head cracked when he pushed her to the ground.

The cold, wet stone ground that had left bruises all over her semi-naked body.

His agonized expression when her knee happened to catch between his legs.

Her family's faces when they returned home hours later to find her huddled in her room, refusing to let even Tara near her.

"WHY DOES IT MATTER TO YOU?!"

Something within his mind shifted as he stared at her. He answered the question softly, beginning to understand why she had left. "Because you chose me. It matters because you chose me…and I can't protect you from him if I don't know."

Her eyes snapped open and she turned to him. It never occurred to her that her hands had dropped away from her ears or that her wand had rolled from her reach at some point.

"Protect me?" she spat. "You're a _Death Eater_. I thought you all _shared_ your whores?" The rhetoric left a bitter taste in her mouth. "I will _kill_ you if you touch me again!"

"Whore?" he whispered. "Oh Hermione…you're not my whore. You're my goddess, my Queen."

"Lies! You tried to—"

"To what? To scare you? Yes. To keep the Order from following us? Yes. I was _angry_. To hurt you? No. To…to _use_ you, to _defile_ you like he wants to? Never."

"Liar!"

"Nothing I can say—"

"Your ACTIONS speak for you!"

"And what about yesterday?"

Silence reined before he spoke again.

"What did my actions say yesterday, Hermione? Did I rip your clothes from you? Did I push you down, hold you down? Did I force myself on you?" He saw her flinch and ground his teeth. "Did I? Did I hold you still and take my pleasure? Did I laugh at your screams and tears?

"Or did I let you go? Did I stop when you called my name? Did I pull back and let you sleep? Did I listen to you when you said, verbally or _not_, that you didn't want any more?

"Which did I do, Hermione? Did I, the evil Death Eater you just vowed to kill, _try to rape you_ yesterday? Did I do what Lucius did, and forced you to bend to my will, only to escape by causing me harm?"

"You just did!"

"THINK!" Despite the pain in his heart, despite the tears that burned his eyes as he stared at the very expression his mother used to wear, annoyance gripped him. "What did I _do_?"

"You dragged me in here! You put your hand _over my mouth _and _dragged_ me in here!"

He nodded. "I did. And for what it's worth, I apologize. I was angry…and I didn't want the Order to follow us. But what _else_ did I do?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"Will you at least humor me?" The words fell quietly from his lips as he closed his eyes and bowed his head once more. "Hermione, you vowed my _death_. The second I leave this room—or if I'm lucky, until the I leave this house—I will have but _moments_ to live. YOU, a magical, legal and blood _heir_ to the _throne_ of Merlin know _how much_ of the Wizarding World vowed my death—you have issued an execution warrant. One that is upheld by the very magic running through your, _**my**_ and everyone else's veins who know about you because _I have done you wrong_.

"Please…consider it a last request. Humor me? What else did I do?"

"You locked the door. Pinned me down. To a _bed_. You…you…p-pi-pinned…m-m-me…."

He raised his head enough to meet her confused gaze. "What if this were reversed? What if, say, you learned that Potter had been attacked? You are angry, because the castle can be accessed at nearly any time by the one who attacked him. You're _wrathful_, because he's your friend. You trust him, and the two of you are closer than many of your peers.

"You're angry. Imagine this, Hermione. You learn he didn't tell you this, even though you both are trying to keep each other safe. So when you see him next, alone, you pull him into an empty classroom. But he doesn't understand why you're so angry, except that you are. Something about the room makes him nervous. You don't realize it at the time, but it does. In self-defense, he attacks you. You restrain him, because as angry as you are, you don't want either of you to get hurt.

"You try to tell him to calm down so you can explain, but he doesn't listen. He keeps fighting you. So you keep restraining him, knowing at some point his emotions will give out. But you don't realize the room is scaring him. You don't realize he's remembering. All you know is you're angry.

"I can apologize, Hermione. As you said, however, words aren't enough. It's actions that matter. I can't erase the last half-hour, or however long it's been.

"You've vowed for my death. I have wronged you. Broken a promise, implied or not, and as such, I put my life in your hands."

He knelt in the musty carpet and slid a sheathed knife across the floor. He knew without watching it, knew from the simple sharp inhale she gave, that had slid under the bed and landed beside her. He bowed his head once more, waiting.

[-]

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AN: Ahh…hm. The muses made me write it? If this chapter doesn't make sense, it's because I posted both parts of the chapter and you might have skipped part one by mistake. So hit the "previous chapter" button so it all makes sense!


	28. Unbreakable

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**Unbreakable**

She stared at the sheathed blade next to her. Chaos tore at her mind, pulling her thoughts in too many directions to count. Murder or self-defense? Assisted suicide or homicide? Wrapping her hands around the cool wooden handle, she unsheathed the blade and fixed her eyes on her faint, warped reflection.

Death Eater, spy, victim, rapist, murderer, savior, mercy, honor, greed, sin, possession, obsession, protection, love, hate…. What was he? What did he feel? What did he _want_? What did he mean to _her_, to the family, to their world? He was teacher, student, partner, ally, enemy, solider, leader and so much more. So many conflicting roles, so many titles and aspects of himself that didn't fit together. He was a walking contradiction, _friends_ of those he fought against, _enemies_ of those he fought with and the only one who knew most of what was going on in all parts of this confusing game called war.

Her fingers tightened around the carved wood and she rose to her feet. Her free hand clung to the dusty wall as one of her shoes knocked against the sheath. Ignoring it, she walked around the bed, swallowing around the lump in her throat. Staring at his bowed head, at the pale skin of his exposed neck, she wondered what she was doing.

The knife gleamed in the soft light that was cast from the discarded wand. It lay on the bed, half-hidden by the disturbed covers and hers rested, forgotten, under the frame. The air grew heavy as her magic rose once more, surrounding her, more controlled but just as strong.

She rested the blade against his neck, hand steady as everything within her fell silent, staring, waiting, praying.

As if watching from above, her own voice sounded odd to her ears. Without emotion, yet so filled with meaning, words tumbled from her lips. "I should kill you. Right now, when there's no one to stop me, no one to protect you…no one to remind me what it would cost, what could happen. But I won't."

She dropped the knife, not caring if it sliced the carpet as it thudded against the floor. In a house like this, who _would_ care?

"You're _sorry_? Then prove it. It'll hurt you so much more to live with the truth."

She turned then, still so very numb, blissfully without anger or fear, and walked from the room. It never occurred to her that the door had been locked and shielded, that magic should have kept her in. She simply walked out, closing the barrier behind her, sealing him in the dank room with his demons. When her wand answered her silent, subconscious call by sliding under the door, she didn't spare it a single moment of consideration. With the reassuring weight of the valuable instrument against her arm once more, she returned to the kitchen as and took her seat as if she'd never left.

[-]

He knelt there, on the old carpet, for what felt like an eternity. It wasn't until he heard the meeting disband that he stirred.

It took him longer than expected to reclaim his wand and sheathe the knife, longer still to return the sheath to his leg.

What had just happened?

Shields once more in tatters and the chains burning fresh marks into his battered spirit, he sat on the bed, head in his hands.

When had life become so complicated?

Digging his fingers into his scalp, he ignored the rising voices and shuffling bodies which sounded from down the hall.

Why was he allowing a slip of a woman to change everything about him?

But…was _she_ really changing anything?

How often had he stared at people lying on the ground, as terrified as she, begging for mercy, and done nothing? Or worse, _caused_ them yet more pain? How often had he laughed at their screams? Having a limit to the pain he would inflict, and how he would cause it, did not make what he did right. It made him self-aware.

Yet as he thought back, remembered what it was like when he first joined the Dark army, he realized she hadn't changed him.

She had made him see the changes in himself.

Once upon a time he would never have stood by as Lucius raised his wand at anyone, especially a woman. And just recently he had. Then he joined the older man. But once, in the past, when he was younger and not so jaded, he wouldn't have.

What had he become?

Looking inward, he understood the answer.

And for once, didn't like what he saw.

Ignoring the call of his blue-eyed Master, who was very aware of his presence within the decrepit house, he allowed his body to fall away. With only enough awareness to replace the protective spells that had previously guarded the door, he turned towards his soul once more.

For the second time this night, he took stock.

Standing within the darkness of his mind, he followed the chain's fire and lightning, seeing how they wrapped, interwoven yet avoiding one another. Each link was a promise, a vow, an oath. And so were they betrayals, rejections, dismissals. Every shun and blatant disregard, every broken word and drop of blood shed. Every act of pain and pleasure had become another link with which to bind him.

He hadn't become his father, not yet. But the rift which had been caused by the violent man was now a complete tear. His soul owned by two men far worse than he could ever hope to be, his mind just as divided. It had been so long since he'd taken the Dark Lord's Mark that he forgot what the pain had been like. But now that he remembered, now that he thought about it, focused on it, he couldn't help but shiver.

Who would believe that the Light Liege's brand had caused agony so profound it literally could not be recalled?

Albus had said it was the Light burning away the taint.

Fawkes had looked away at those words, betraying the lie.

Tom had laughed when he found out his spy had been successful.

Nagini had tasted the air, eyes narrowed as she sensed betrayal.

The Order would never accept him and the Death Eaters would never trust him. He could not be a true warrior for either side, since neither cause understood his position.

And the one person who had, the one woman who commanded an army separate from the Order, the Death Eaters, the Ministry and their allies he had caused to turn from him.

Barely feeling his host's breath hitch, he walked forward, staring at the insubstantial evidence of his soul. Twisted, corrupted and desolate as it was, it existed…despite however many had attempted to destroy it. Dark and Light danced around, between and through each half, creating allies from enemies.

A united goal.

Slowly, he felt a smile pull on his lips until he threw back his head and laughed. Deep within his mind, hidden from even his own body, he allowed his laughter to fall.

Oh the irony.

Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle shared a singular goal, and neither was aware of it.

But he was. Now, now that he'd seen, now that he'd stopped hiding, he knew.

Idly, he wondered if the boy knew.

Hovering a hand over the contrasting magics, he stared hard at the mirror of himself which appeared in each link.

He had originally bound himself to each cause, thinking it was right.

He no longer believed in either, knowing the truth.

They would not release him.

He could not break free.

But….

He could change.

They had created the man—the monster—he had become. It was time to show them what their creation could do.

Ignoring the fathomless agony which tore through every iota of his being, he wrapped both hands around the two chains.

So deep inside himself, he never saw the black blood which dripped from the Dark Mark like tears. Nor did he see how that black, burning blood ran down his arm and wrapped around his wrist. Consumed by his task, even the appearance of a glowing white ring of flames below the snake's head didn't startle him. He knew it was there, it always had been.

Neither Master would allow him to walk to the other un-Marked, would they?

[-]

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AN: …. O.o….?


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